


I'll Make a Man Out of You

by Momma_Time



Series: Actual Disney Princess Alexander Hamilton [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is a Disney Princess now, And Hilarious, Burr is Burr, F/M, Hamilsquad, I think thats what you all, John adams isnt too much of a turd, Just you wait - Freeform, M/M, Mulan AU, actually james, alexs real dads name was, an adviser for adams, and everyone basically, and gets along with T Jeff and Burr, and i can see peggy doing, and makes googly eyes at, but obvs not jmads, but will deny it as if his life, call those boobs, depends on it, dont hate me for this au, fem!alex, george questions his preferences, george will make a man, id use tjeff but hes already, oh well for now, out of you yet alex, peggy is alexs rockin granny, scene because its necessary, something like that, that no one asked for, the madisonxalexs mom ship, the new recruit later on, who WILL do the stay forever, who the heck will b mushu, wont need a mushu for a little while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:58:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 41,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8044984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momma_Time/pseuds/Momma_Time
Summary: Alexandra can't let her father serve, not in his condition; the men are being drafted to prepare for the coming invasion ("The Brittish are coming!"). And, while women CAN serve in the military, they're not allowed on the battlefield.So, obviously, she's going to pose as the bastard son that James Madison didn't actually have so that he won't die before he can even get to the encampment.And, while the whole camp is oblivious to the fact that there's a twenty-year-old woman in their camp posing as a man, Burr has his suspicions.This is VERY loosely based on the Disney movie just because it ran away from me...Formally Father_Time





	1. Everything Has a Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I needed another Disney Princess Alex fic. Which then turned into an idea for a possible series of Alex as different Disney princesses (or prince b/c I want to shake things up a little and hello Little Merman with Prince Laurens) and a different ship for each one. I have a list of movies with pairings but idk if I'll get through them all.  
> The goober who sparked this idea is myowndeliverance who was nice enough to do a Beauty and the Beast au fic for me and lemme tell y'all that B&B is like, one of my fave Disney Princess movies so...  
> Lastly, I'm in college and have an internship, so I don't know how often I'll be able to post. Just a heads up.

In this small nation, despite the ways of neighboring kingdoms, women did have more power in society. They could run for an office, or even be in the military. However, their military services only allowed them to work in offices. They were never allowed on the battlefield. To some women, this was all right, and they were content with the arrangement; to others, they were less pleased with it and wanted to fight alongside the men.

Which is how we meet our lovely Alexandra. She was certainly beautiful, with youthful features that have followed her into her younger adulthood years and warm and bright eyes with unmatched intelligence (so far). Her hands were small and delicate, sans the small calluses from her writing but she easily hid those when she knew she would be at one social event or another. Her father ensured that she was well educated, an education worthy of their social standing, woman or not. Alexandra took full advantage of this opportunity that she had been blessed with and was frequently found wandering her family’s estate with a book in hand and a blind eye to the world around her. When she set her focus on something, few things could distract her.

Once again, there is always a small negative to be found, although she and her grandmother would tell you that it was a strength of hers, rather than a weakness.

She loved a good debate. Alexandra was highly opinionated, and it was only her status and gender that kept her from participating in a good fight, but she secretly wished for a good brawl. The young woman was small, sure, but she didn’t see herself as delicate and therefore never backed down when one should. Her mouth got her into trouble, frequently, but Gran Peggy was always there to support her when the consequences of her actions finally came around. And they always came around.

This time, it was the result of her last chance of being judged by the Matchmaker for a husband or wife. Yes, her mouth got her into trouble every single time she went. She didn’t agree with half of the things that woman said a woman should be. Why couldn’t she be opinionated? Why couldn’t she speak? If women were allowed to be in politics, why couldn’t she speak up or participate? What made her any less capable?

Which is how she found herself kicked out of the Matchmaker’s offices and sent back to her parents, the woman calling out that she was shameful and a dishonor to her family and ancestors. Her father was, to put it crassly, pissed, of course. He wanted his daughter to have the best, but this kept happening, and he had grown weary of it all. For this, she was sent to bed early that evening with only bread for dinner.

Gran Peggy snuck into her room after everyone else had gone to bed, food in hand, and sat beside Alexandra at her desk. “Kid, you and that mouth of yours…you’re almost as bad as your grandfather. Actually, no, you might be worse.”

“Yes, thank you, Gran, you know just was to say to cheer me up,” the girl grumbled in between bites of her stew.

The old woman snorted with laughter. “You know what I mean girl. Your father is proud of you, don’t believe otherwise. We all are. You have grown into an intelligent and beautiful young woman, one that any family should be proud to call their own.” She reached out, raising Alexandra’s face from where she was staring into her bowl with watering eyes. “It is nothing to be ashamed of, to have your own opinion. Never stop having one, never stop expressing it…but do try to pick your battles and learn some tact.” Which she said with a small grin. “You have been blessed by our ancestors with this life that Fate has created for you.”  
Alexandra didn’t answer, but she did hold her grandmother’s soft and loving gaze. How was she supposed to exercise her rights if she was always oppressed for it? What voice did she have if, as a woman, she was unable to hold the same power as any man?

“Why bother if they won’t listen?”

“It’s because they don’t want to hear it that you should “bother” kid. Watch your verbiage, pull punches but not to be gentle but to strike deep where they won’t expect it. Hit them below the belt but mask it as an act of kindness, of gentleness, and they won’t feel the sting in the way they should. Their pain will be all the more satisfying once they finally see the trap into which you’ve led them.” Gran Peggy reached up and wiped away a tear before it could fall and grinned, “Women have the power to kill with kindness and a pretty smile. Use it.”

Alexandra nodded and set her stew to the side before leaning in to hug her grandmother. Peggy, sensing what she was going to do before Alexandra even moved, was already waiting with open arms. “There’s my girl. Now, get some sleep because tomorrow is a new day and you don’t know what it may hold for you. Plenty of adventure and mischief to be found, don’t you think?”

With a nod, Alexandra stood and gave her grandmother a hand up. And, after parting, she washed and dressed for bed.

Right.

Tomorrow. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?

\------------------------------>

Darkness.

These soldiers were masters of stealth and knew better than anyone how to rule over the shadows. Unmatched in their abilities to skulk around gave them the advantage of spying on their enemies constantly and earned them the knowledge of where and when to strike to cripple a nation. Their campaign had led them across the continent, but in this smaller country, the people believed that their walls and sentries would prevent any invasion. Or, if one such attack occurred, then they would be able to take out the enemy easily.

Pride before the fall, as they say, but don’t forget that it goes both ways.

These scouts easily scurried up the walls along the border and took out anyone who could alert the kingdom to their arrival. One managed to escape, briefly, but it was long enough to light one fire that quickly spread the message to the other stations along the wall in the distance.

“Dammit,” one archer hissed. Raising her bow, she quickly took out the one that had alerted the others before rounding on the other soldiers under her command. “It’s too late to keep going at the moment. Retreat now and we’ll return later. Continuing will only have them on our tails until they round us up.”

They were to be scoping out the territory ahead of the rest of the army; they knew they wouldn’t be able to hold out for too long on their own, and their numbers were too few at that moment.

Everyone scaled the walls and beat a hasty retreat to their camps several miles away.

Their commander, of course, was not pleased by the news and ground his teeth a moment in irritation before giving a curt nod and making for his tent, waving his highest officers to follow after him. Their ruler slammed his fist on the table holding their maps and markers, jarring them and knocking a few things over.

“You incompetent, useless bags of air! How could you just…one job.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes clenched shut. “One job, that’s all, and you mucked it up. They know we’re nearby and thinking of attacking now.”

“Sire, if I may?” A smaller man, one in charge of supplying their troops, spoke up and took a tentative step forward. Seabury, if the emperor remembered right. “I made sure to outfit them in clothes and weapons to pass as raiders. There should not have been any identifying markers on the scouts sent forward. And, if they did do as ordered, then no one would have seen them and lived.”

Their emperor, George, took a step forward, towering over the rail-thin man. “If they lit the beacons, then they will assume, and they will have assumed correctly.”

Another officer spoke up, one that trained most of their numbers. “But there have apparently been reports of other small parties attempting to gain access to the kingdom. Actual raiders. There should have been enough that they will think nothing of it.”

George nodded, his pale skin glowing a sickly yellow-gray in the candlelight before being shrouded in darkness as he turned away for a moment and paced. It might help. It may at least give them time to do a proper invasion before they figured out that it wasn’t mere bandits. “We’ll wait for now, then, and see what happens. If things change, we’ll need to either begin a full attack or offer them a chance to surrender immediately. They know exactly what we’ve done to other nations that didn’t submit immediately. They’d be fools to fight us as well.”

With one last look at his officers, the emperor gave a small wave to dismiss them. “Get some sleep. I want you back here by first light to discuss how to prepare for “peaceful” relations with these ignorant fools.”

“Sir, aren’t ignorant and fools sort of describing the same thing?”

“Out,” he growled.

\------------------------------>

“Sire? Sire! They’ve…” The man, Jefferson, slowed to a stop before King Adams and bowed before straightening his spine. His cheeks were flushed from running across the palace to reach the king; a letter was slightly crumpled in his hand from not folding it up correctly before his hasty search. “A report, we just got one. It’s…it wasn’t raiders, this time, sire.”

The king took the offered report and read it swiftly, the furrow between his brows deepening the further he went down the paper. “So, it’s finally our turn. I was hoping for more time, that they wouldn’t pick us for their next step in a complete takeover of the continent.”

King Adams gave the letter one more once over before turning to his military advisor, General Augustine Washington. “It’s time General, prepare our current troops. Mr. Jefferson, please send a message to our officers and tell them to gather men for our numbers. There must be a conscription, this time, one man from every household, no exceptions. If we are to be taken down, we will go with a fight, and we must fight soon.”

Lastly, King Adams turned to the youngest in their impromptu council. “Lieutenant General George Washington, welcome to your first, real war. I know the General will be proud of your efforts to come, as a great and honorable father should.” He raised one hand to rest it on the young man’s shoulder. “You’ll be a great and honorable man too, one of the best, I know it.”

The youngest Washington gave a small nod to the king and softly thanked him for the faith he had in him and then followed his father out. Their king was right. They needed to take a stand and it needed to be done now. There wouldn’t be a later, and there was no time to waste.

“Lieutenant General, are you scared?” Augustine asked when they were alone in the halls.

George, a man to think before he spoke—his father taught him well on how to be a man of tact and planning—waited a moment before answering his father and general; his father did not mind waiting for his son to answer. He encouraged the young man to think about his answers thoroughly but quickly; Augustine knew George’s replies would continue to come more rapidly as he matured and circumstance allowed.

“It would be foolish of a man not to feel fear in a time such as this, Sir.” He stole a glance at his father, who flashed him a soft expression for only a moment before it went back to something stoic but pleased. “But…yes, father, I am scared. There will be men under my command and my fear is for them, not myself, as their lives will depend on my instructions.”

“Excellent, George, but don’t forget to worry about yourself as well. A little fear for your life is what will keep you alive.”

“As you have reminded me time and again,” the young man said, suppressing a smile. “It must be my youth and inexperience that have made me stubborn.”

“No, you just take after your mother.”

The two couldn’t stifle their laughter, even if it were a little strained, weak, from knowing what was coming and what could happen to them but knowing that they needed to take a few pleasures when they could. Laughter, of course, was the hardest one to obtain but the most satisfying.


	2. Mischief and Trouble Finds Us All...Never Mind, It's Only Alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last bit of building up to the main part of the story with Alex being an idiot and running off to find that fight she craved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll meet the gang in the next chapter as this one is almost entirely Alex with a dash of Daddy Issues™ (it's not THAT kind, but obviously there are never any good types of Daddy Issues™). This one is also pretty short, sorry about that.
> 
> I'll try to update at least once a week as school is Nuts™.
> 
> Again, thanks to myowndeliverance for being the boob to sort of inspire this ridiculous fic and a possible series.

The recruiters came later that evening to Nevis, where our Alexandra lived, gathering the whole town to its center to announce the new decree. Every house who has a man to rule it will give one man to service, unless the only man in the household was the heir son, in which case, it was voluntary. Carrying the family name was incredibly important, and even the king couldn’t force the sole beneficiaries to serve; many of those heirs would fight anyway if the situation were bad enough. Women were encouraged to join for their own roles in war, but they needed soldiers more than they needed staff.

Alexandra had raced ahead of her family, hopping and scaling the side of the town’s dry fountain (turned off in the late fall and through winter) to get a better look at what was happening. A draft…conscription…whatever the hell they wanted to call it. She didn’t have any siblings, but she did have a father. He had done his time in the last war, injured enough to be sent home with an honorable discharge. Alexandra felt something like a millstone scrape and drag the whole way down into her stomach, dread that her father might be forced to serve this time anyway. Knowing of his injuries, she knew that one James Madison would likely die in this war, and it would be in the near future. Would he even make it to the main encampment with his condition?

“Madison, James.”

The man in question did his best to hide his limp and suppress any itch to cough from exertion as he walked forward to collect his orders. He nearly stumbled, but his stoic and calm demeanor never wavered until they were finally told they could go home and the door shut behind them. Only then did he lean heavily on his wife, Rachel, needing support in getting to a chair.

Rachel and her mother Peggy took their seats while Alexander paced the room, frowning and mouthing words to herself until she finally spoke to her father. It took everything she had in her to keep her voice even at first, but after she had said the words, actual calm swept over her. It was false calmness, more like she had come to terms with the situation and retreated to something deader, numb.

“You’ll die before you get there, won’t you?” As said before, it had started with a forced evenness, but by the end, it was quiet and almost difficult to hear.

Her mother and grandmother had been speaking to one another, planning on how to handle the estate’s affairs while James was gone, knowing that they would likely be running it indefinitely. At her words, their conversation dropped off to listen, watching as Alexandra and James had a stare off. Alexandra was the first to look away; jaw clenched to fight back the urge to start an argument with him, to plead with him to stay and not go. How could he be expected to fight in his condition? And, in her mind, wouldn’t the military see it as a waste of resources to bring the sickly into this? It would be forgiven in his case if he wanted.

All four of them knew he would go anyway. He was a man of honor and dedication to his fellow man, hard working, and he would not leave his countrymen out there to serve without him.

His voice was almost as soft as hers, trying to be gentle about approaching this topic. They had never struggled with hardship or heartbreak as a family, not including the loss of Alexander’s grandfather. James didn’t want to make Alexander’s experience during the coming times any harder than it needed to be. “Yes, it is very likely that I might on the way there. It is very likely that I might during training. It is even more likely when I’m sent to the battlefield.” If I make it that far, was left unsaid. “That is the nature of things Alex, don’t forget that.”

Alexandra didn’t want gentleness. She wanted it like it was, harsh or not.

“But we need you here!” she snapped. Her thoughts on waste came back to her and spilled out before she could stop them. “You’d be a waste of time and space and resources to them if you’re just going to drop dead before you even get through training!”

No one moved, and no one spoke. Not even crickets could be heard outside, as if they sensed and feared the coming storm, the release of tension. The only noise came from Alexandra’s breathing, her fury, frustration, and sorrow leaving her breaths ragged.

“Don’t be a waste of space.”

That did it.

“Go to bed Alexandra,” was all James said. A deadly calm had settled over him, the commanding side of him from the war coming out and warning her not to continue.

Alexandra, being how she was, did not, in fact, stop talking or attempting to start an argument.

“No,” she hissed. “Not until I talk some sense into you for going on a suicide mission.”

James said nothing, but he stood, grabbed his cane to help him stay upright, and walked towards her, using his free hand to drag her through their home and to her room. Alexandra kept trying to argue with him, kept trying to fire off insults at him to get him started on a rant of his own, but she didn’t fight him pulling her along. Eventually, they got to her room, and he let go long enough to open the door. His silence was more painful than any hand to her ass or chewing out; Alexandra hated silence, always had, and it was usually a fitting punishment when her father would not speak to her, would not rise to her challenge.

Alexandra’s expression changed, from fury to sorrow it fell, but she fell silent as well and went into her room. She didn’t turn back to look at him as her father shut the door and went back down the hall to be with his wife and mother-in-law. Right now, he needed support, not a fight, and he would not get that from his daughter until she calmed down.

 

Alexandra did not calm down, not much. Her fury, her pain, went to a low simmer and stayed that way until the middle of the night. Her way of coping, her only way of coping, was to write and read. Tonight, the topic was a letter to her father, a persuasive essay to stay home and not go, to opt out this time. She knew he would still go, but to scratch at the paper with her pen was soothing, and she knew she was at least making an attempt.

Everyone had gone to bed by the time she finally finished. It was when she set her pen down that she heard someone walking down the hall. It was slow, but it was not her grandmother's steps, but her father's--the woman was far from frail, and Alexandra was sure the woman would outlive them all. She stood and silently crept to the door, listening until the steps disappeared into what she was sure was his office.

She waited a moment before slipping out of her room and following him down the hall, stopping at the cracked open door of his office. Alexandra peeked through the narrow gap, observing as her father knelt by the trunk he kept beside the window, that he sometimes used as a window seat. All of his gear from the previous war was in there, and she watched him pull out his pistol and start to clean it. He'd likely leave before the week was out, gone and never to return unless they put him in clerical work rather than on the front lines. He was brilliant, and she knew he would be far more useful in an office than with a pistol in his hand, but that wouldn't be enough for him. James was passionate, although he was far better at keeping it under wraps and controlling himself. His passion could be likened to a small campfire, enough to suit your needs and enjoy, while Alexandra's was like an out of control wildfire in the late months of summer when the land was teetering on the edge of drought, grass and trees dried and slightly burned from the sun. She couldn't watch him go through his kit any longer and slipped away to her room, trying to figure out a way to convince him to stay or at least attempt to get a position as a clerk.

By the end of the night, after having been incapable of finding sleep, Alexandra was back in the office and grabbing what she would need to be a soldier. The uniform wouldn't fit her, so she didn't bother grabbing it. In a sack, Alexandra loaded some food for travel, red rags (that she hoped no one saw her washing out after a day of her bleed), her father's weapons, his cap and belt, clothes she could move and fight in, and a wrap to bind her breasts. On her pillow, a short letter to her family of what she planned to do and where she was going. Wish her luck, don't try to find her so that they didn't get her tossed into prison for being caught as a woman, and anything else she deemed relevant.

With a stable full of horses to choose from, she saddled her horse Martin and attached the saddle bags to carry hers and the horse's gear. She took the thin, leather thong to tie back her wild and wavy curls before tossing her father's cap over her head.

Alexandra looked back at the estate when she reached the gates and tried to breathe through the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her. This was it, her chance to save her father and finally find the fight she had always craved. With one last sigh, Alexandra--no, Alex, to keep it simple, guided Martin around and left their home behind.


	3. Swamp Light Voices and New Bunkmate(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex finally meets Burr and the boys.  
> Some of the boys, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unedited and I have deleted and started over on this chapter about two or three times now. I think I like it.  
> This is also where I start deviating from the original movie. It's glaringly obvious.  
> Also, Mulligan is a perv. This is your only warning about that.

Alexandra Madison was back at the Madison Estate.

Alex Hamilton (Alexandra took her pen name, so she wasn’t lying, right?) was who showed up at the preliminary encampment that afternoon.

Alex didn’t know the first thing about how to be a man. Not a damn thing.

It was becoming more evident the further into camp she went. Alex had dismounted from her horse before she reached the first tents, and, holding onto the reins, walked alongside Martin further in. According to the letter, she was supposed to check in at a small tent in the center, where she was to speak with a man named Aaron Burr to find out where she would be assigned and who she would be working under.

He wasn’t what she was expecting. Aaron Burr was a walking contradiction. He was a little taller than her with buzzed, military friendly hair and a soft face, but it looked like the man hadn’t smiled a day in his life. His hard, calculating gaze was at odds with his boyish features. A man who looked as if he were capable of more warmth than anyone, seemed cold and aloof among the people that came to him to receive their assignments.

His voice added to it.

It was like warmed honey, smooth and soothing, although Alex would say that it gave her the “willies” as a boy back home had once said. “Willies” explained it perfectly. It seemed like a false warmth, like the swamp lights that led unwary travelers into its depths. A light should be a guide to warmth, home, and yet the swamp lights did the exact opposite. The fae, as she remembered her Gran calling them, that carried those lights lured you in and never let you leave. You would drown before you reached them or they would trap you and feast upon your flesh before letting the gators have what was left.

That’s what his voice was like. His voice was a swamp light, a distant lantern that led a person into a false sense of security.

Alex wondered what was inside the trap.

She immediately made a note never to find herself on the man's blacklist and to avoid him when all possible. Aaron Burr was too dangerous for Alex to be safe in her façade with him.

When it was her turn, she stepped forward and held out her papers.

“Good afternoon…?” Aaron looked up from the order and met her eye, and it took her a moment to realize he needed her name.

“R-right. Sorry. I’m Alex Hamilton.”

Aaron Burr glanced back down at the letter with a frown. “This says James Madison. I am pretty sure that is not you, sir.”

Alex faked her confidence and gave a half-hearted shrug. “Yes, well, bastard son…He took good enough care of my ma, and I; the least I can do is fight in his place.”

After a moment to stare at Alex, to let his eyes roam from head to toe before shifting them back to hers, he gave a small nod. “Interesting…Doesn’t he have a daughter by a similar name? He must really like the name Alex, hm?”

She couldn’t say much to that and only nodded. Well, this couldn’t get any more uncomfortable. Two minutes in and she was already paranoid that the man knew everything. They didn’t drop their gazes even though all Alex wanted to do was go run and hide somewhere. She needed to be herself, just…without the lady parts.

Cocky, intelligent, and obnoxiously opinionated. She was a wildfire; she needed to act like it.

After a few more moments of them staring each other down, Aaron smiled slightly and motioned for one of his aids to pass him a kit. “We need a size 1 for this boy, please.”

The aid dug around through their various piles of supplies before passing Aaron a bundle—Alex’s indignant noise at being called a boy, like she was a child, was ignored by both of them—a tag tied to it with a #1 written in blue ink on the front. Aaron passed it to Alex quickly, and Alex had to make it look easy to hold the weighted kit. As Aaron went on and on about what was in it, Alex let her mind wander, thoughts drifting here and there as the camp went about its business around them.

It was only when fingers snapped in front of her face that Alex jerked back into reality.

“Sorry, you were taking forever, and I got bored,” was the first thing out of her mouth and the last thing she should have said to Aaron, as he scowled at her before shoving the letter back into her hands.

“Your tent, tent 7, is on the eastern side of camp, and you’ll be sharing with a man by the name of Mulligan, although there may be a second and third depending on today’s turnout.” He almost sounded like he hoped Alex would end up with three. One was more than enough in her opinion, thank you very much. Too many. She had thought that she would have her own tent or share one with one other. So one. She’d be sharing with a guy named Mulligan and Alex hoped that that was all that wound up in her tent. Maybe that guy would be a little more…relaxed, and not suspicious or the calm in a storm like Aaron was. “The whole eastern quadrant is under the command of Lieutenant General George Washington, so you will answer to him. Good luck.”

With that, he easily dismissed Alex with a wave of his hand and started working on the guy behind her, who nudged her out of the way so that he could get to the table.

\------->

Hercules Mulligan, by his introduction. That sounded like a nice enough name, right?

Alex’s first impression of Mulligan was slightly tainted by the fact that she walked in on him yanking his trousers up after using the chamber pot outside. Definitely not something she wanted to see… But, it did get better. He was friendly enough, although he seemed to be one of those men that invaded your personal space for the sake of bone crushing hugs that would snap you in half like a twig. Alex was sure that her back popped in several places, and before she could get her feet back under her again, Mulligan gave her a hard slap on the back that about knocked her over.  
After introductions, he began to talk her ears off about his career before this war started to gain traction. Talented, apparently, as he helped design the uniforms and had made various garments for advisors.

But, he was a tailor…if no one else knew, he would know what a binder looked like if he found hers and could turn her in. On the other hand, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he could make her another if she needed another down the road. Alex couldn’t ask that of him without knowing 100% that she would be safe telling him, that he wouldn’t say anything to anyone. If he turned her in, Alex would face prison or worse. She would take some time to learn more about him before she decided. Likely, she could never trust him enough for that.

She answered her own question then; Alex wouldn’t be telling him.

Hercules Mulligan had…a mouth on him, Alex would give him that. She had never heard such lewd talk, and she was scandalized at first; at the end of the week, she’d be doing it with him, but that’s for later.

She did like him, though; the man was far nicer and louder than she thought when they first spoke and it made lying to him harder, the guilt poking at her annoyingly until she shushed it with ‘we’ll get locked up or killed for this; you’re saving your neck.’

“But why are you here if you’re so useful back home?” she finally asked, unpacking her kit into the small footlocker by her cot.

He sobered immediately, “I’ve seen what those assholes do to people that get in their way; if I can do anything to help stop that, then I will, even if we fail. A tailor doesn’t matter much in war unless the medics are recruiting him during a crisis to stitch people up…Besides, city life was getting old. I needed the break.”

“You needed a break…so you decided to sign up for a war to, what, relax? Makes perfect sense,” Alex replied with a snort.

“Then why are you here?”

Alex stopped what she was doing and looked up at her bunkmate, wondering how to answer it without raising more questions. Keep to the original story, she guessed. “I’m the bastard whose father didn’t completely leave my ma and me out in the cold, so I’m paying him back by taking his place in the war. That, and I’ll never make anything of myself outside of this war. An academic and essayist doesn’t exactly pay well.” It didn’t pay at all, and no one knew it was her work. She’d love to have recognition for it, but no one would publish it if she had her name on it. So, Alex Hamilton, it was.

“Besides, I hate King George and his ilk anyway. A bunch of slimy bastards who don’t lift a finger to help their own people and abuse their power. I’m tired of writing about shit like that and want to rant about national policy rather than hatred for someone else.” She flashed him a smirk, “Although, I’ll say that I’m a talkative little shit and too opinionated for my own good…and love to argue too much. Ranting about those shitheads is a walk in the park. There’s always something to complain about.”

That earned her a laugh, and another backbreaking smack to the back—she would have bruises tomorrow, she just knew it—and then Mulligan was dropping himself onto his cot with a sigh. “I think you and I will get along just fine, kid.”

“I hope we do…but why the hell does everyone keep calling me a kid?” The last part was grumbled. She wasn’t a child, dammit.

“Uh, because you look like you’re still wet behind the ears. How old are you anyways?” Alex almost said that it was rude to ask a woman her age but caught herself before it could come out.

“I’m twenty, thank you very much.”

“You even have sex yet? You scream of “boy” and “virgin.” I’m lookin’ for your spots.”

Now that right there. That was something Alex was not prepared for.

She sputtered a moment, face reddening as she tried to formulate an answer that wouldn’t get her laughed at, but the look of her was apparently enough for Mulligan who burst into laughter. “Man, don’t worry. We’ll get that cherry popped the first pub we march by unless you find a bloke you like ‘round here. Either way kid, we’re gettin’ you laid.”

“Who’s the lucky prick getting laid?” Alex and Mulligan turned to look at a young man about Alex’s age who was waltzing in like he owned the place, grinning from ear to ear.

“This kid if we can swing it,” Mulligan replied with a smirk, thumbing in Alex’s direction, who was still blushing. He stood and hurried to greet the man, “John! I missed you.”

The young man, John, embraced him quickly. “I missed you too. Where you been? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I was here, makin’ shit so you idiots would have something to wear rather than your birthday suits to battle.” They both laughed about that, and Alex wondered briefly how they knew each other, but before she could ask, John was already turning his attention to her and holding out his hand.

“I’m John Laurens. When I heard Herc would be here, I requested to bunk with him. I guess you’re stuck with me too.” Alex shook his hand quickly and hoped to the gods that she didn’t look scared out of her mind. One man in her tent was bad, but two? This couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Alex Hamilton. Pleased to meet you, Laurens.”

John took a step back and looked her over, arms folding over his chest. “How old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen? Are you even allowed to be here? Alex shot Mulligan a look when the man started laughing again.

“I’m twenty,” she grumbled, huffing and shooting Mulligan another glare before returning her attention to John.

“So Hamilton…” he mused, now squinting at her. “That name sounds familiar…where have I…oh! Oh, I know! You wrote an essay that made it into the papers back home, right? I remember saving it; I thought it was brilliant!”

Alex nodded and smiled shyly, “Yep, me. Always yelling at someone for something.” Shit. Someone knew her…or, knew of her. Maybe it could get worse. “I didn’t think many people read them.”

“Well, I don’t care much about what they do, but I do read them and agree wholeheartedly with most of it. Ah, this is going to be great! You know how many people we could roast while we’re here? You and I will get into so much trouble.”

Not good. Not good at all. She didn’t need to be noticed while she was here. No thanks.

“OK but, I came here to fight the enemy, not get kicked out of the army for starting fights with our brothers.”

“But that’s the best part…” Was he whining? He would say no, Alex and Mulligan would say yes.

She and Mulligan shook their heads at him, and he deflated a little, but it wasn’t long before the man was bouncing off the walls again while he unpacked.


	4. Staring Is Rude Unless You're In Charge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George tries to figure out who's useful and who's not.  
> He also, apparently, has a resting I'm-going-to-murder-you bitch face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to get this back out. Things are crazy and this chapter was giving me problems. I rewrote it several times before throwing up my hands and saying screw it Imma write in George's POV instead.  
> This is the result.

George was tired.

He and his father had hit the floor running from the moment that news broke that their enemy showed up at their borders. How long had it been since it started? He looked down at the letter he was writing and sighed. Two weeks? No, three?

This mess is why he needed sleep. His exhaustion was screwing up his counting, and he still had a full day ahead of him. The men were checking in and getting settled. They'd get two more days to adjust and start getting their orders before he would begin doling out the training drills. The men coming under his command wouldn't like it, but he'd be damned if he sent his men into battle without training. They needed to know how to fight.

George finished the rest of his letters through most of the afternoon, and before he knew it, it was time for dinner.

He signed the last one and sealed it before slipping on his coat and donning his continental cocked hat. He hated the thing, but for the first week, George needed to ensure they saw him as inhuman, far above them and more than meeting their expectations. They would put him on a pedestal, and George needed to cement it in their minds that that is where he would remain, no matter what happened.

He, his aides, and other officers were the first in line for the food; it went by rank. It was when they took their seats that he checked out mentally to keep an eye on everyone around them. George had chatted with his officers already; the soldiers were his new interest now. Sure, he nodded and hummed along where it was appropriate, keeping half an ear on the conversation, but he was zeroing in on different groups of soldiers. Who was going to be the most useful? Who knew how to fight? Who didn't? Who were the upper class that were not used to these conditions and who were the lower class who were just happy to have a hot meal?

George took mental notes on everyone of interest.

One group of rowdy recruits came in a little later than everyone else, and he turned his attention to them.

One was a broad-shouldered man, well muscled and George filed it away for later to figure out where he would fit best. The second was more fair-skinned, freckled and hardly looked old enough to be here; he was lean but looked like he could be quick on his feet. Upper class, so George might be able to use that to get funding when he needed it. The last one was much smaller than his companions. The young man, like his friend, didn't look old enough to be here. He was slight, looked like he could use a decent night of sleep, and from the way he carried himself, upper class, possibly upper-middle class. George couldn't tell from here, but the boy looked like he would be more useful at a desk than at the front lines. He could observe him in action later to decide.

The trio was laughing, the two taller soldiers teasing the smaller about something George couldn't hear. The third took it all in stride, smiling and ducking his head at one of the comments, embarrassed. He didn't take his attention off of them, even after they sat down. Partway through his meal, the smallest happened to look up, and their eyes met. It was hardly a glance before he had returned his attention to his friends.

"You're scowling, Sir. Who's screwed up now?"

George returned his attention to his table of officers, blinking slowly as he quickly processed what he'd missed, and then answering with, "No one had committed a wrong...yet."

The men at the table smiled, and the one who had spoken first hadn't finished. "If you don't mind my asking, what are you looking at?"

George gestured to the soldiers around them, assuming that it had been obvious. "I'm figuring out what their strengths and weaknesses are so that we as a whole can benefit from where we place them."

"Sir, we haven't even begun training," another officer interjected.

"That does not mean that I cannot observe and implement plans based on what I find. For example, those three over there. The two at the end look and carry themselves like people from the upper class or the upper-middle class. I am certain that the taller is upper, but the shorter, I'm a little torn. The advantage of having them is that both could have connections that would be useful to us if we need more supplies. We never know when we'll fall on hard times and will need help. All three have a bit of fight in them, but what soldiers don't. The two I mentioned before have a different spark in them, intelligence, especially in the smallest. The largest soldier of them is strong, good with his hands, likable and depending on his abilities in a fight; we may put him somewhere besides the front lines. I would still have him fight, but I want to think carefully about where he would fit our needs." George had gone back to watching the three. "I do not need to see them in practice to size our men up."

"Then why don't you just ask them what they want to do?"

"Because most young men are hoping for glory, foolishly so. If I ask, they may play up their abilities in the hopes that they'll get what they want." George paused, glancing at the table across the way to the men at his table and then to his dinner.

"Most have never met you and do not know what you look like. You might be able to get more out of our than you think."

The general looked at his officer, saying nothing as he thought on it. It could work. He could leave his coat and hat here so that no one could see his rank. Why not?

Shedding his coat and setting it beside his hat, George grabbed his dinner and made for the table with the subjects his of conversation.


	5. A Rotting Corpse's Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly Alex's POV.  
> They meet Washington.  
> Things get weird.  
> Alex must have the last word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for the end of this chapter...

The food was terrible, but hey, food was food, and they knew that it could be much worse and would likely be so in a few weeks when they went to the front. They needed to get used to it and soon. Alex looked around after a bite, studying those she would be fighting with and wondering who would be the first to die. Who would be the ones to go onto the front lines first? Would it be those new to war or the veterans? Would it be the young or the old? Who would be charged with being the first to take the hits for their comrades?

“What are you looking at?” She turned her attention to who spoke and found George taking a seat with them. He was tall, almost regal compared to what was probably his rank. And those shoulders, she caught herself thinking.

“Um.” Yes, very eloquent. An essayist and yet she can’t string together a sentence in front of her superior. He and her bunkmates, along with half of the table, shifted their attention to her, waiting for Alex to respond. She dropped her gaze down to her bowl of grits and thought about her answer before speaking up. “I’m just…thinking about what will happen in this war and how I’ll write it down.”

The man gave an encouraging nod, wanting Alex to explain.

Alex hesitated before continuing, motioning to the men around them, “Who will make it into my essays? What will they do to earn their place? Will they have done anything at all to be there or will they just be another face that I happen to remember at the end of the day?" She slowed her speech, choosing her words carefully when she continued. "Will I remember to paint them with the honor they deserve for just showing up at all or will I forget, and they’ll simply remain a flat character in our history, someone who doesn’t matter? Who will die first? Will it be from a wound, disease, or starvation? Will I be able to write about the start of their legacy?” After a quick bite of the bland grits, she finished with, “I love to write and want to write their story. I hope to make it long enough to see it published someday.”

The whole table was pin-drop silent, and Alex felt the weight of their stares keenly but chose to ignore it in favor of focusing on eating. Proud and loud. That’s who she is supposed to be. Alex guessed this counted as loud and proud. Sure, her voice was a little quieter than normal—her nerves were bothering her—but the content was still sobering, just as it could be heard that she was proud of her writing and her next pursuit.

She heard someone mutter that her reply was morbid and Alex merely laughed at them and tipped back in her seat to grin at the guy near the end of the table. “Morbid tales make for the best reading, sir. Trust me on that.”

John was the first to speak to her after everyone went back to eating, uncomfortable with where she had taken the conversation. He and their commander—she really needed to figure out his name and rank—were the only two still looking at her. “I told you that I love your work. I would be happy to help you with that if you’d have me.”

The young woman stopped scraping the bottom of her bowl and met his gaze, “I would appreciate that. Having another eye on these events would be very helpful. Perspective. I always want a diversity of perspective.”

“He said he loves your work and you mentioned writing. What writing is it that you do?” their senior asked.

“Oh, um, essays. I’ve always got something to dishes…or support. The number of fights I’ve found myself in over them.” She flashed him a small smirk, “I get a little overzealous when I write or debate, sir. And it gets me into more trouble than most would deem necessary.”

"What's your name?"

"Alex Hamilton, sir." She held out her hand, smiling at him, and Alex received a firm shake.

George said nothing at first, but she could tell that he was sizing her up. Alex, despite her discomfort with the attention, forced herself not to look away. She was all right with the spotlight when she actively sought it out, but she didn’t like it when it found her, unprompted. Alex could tell after a moment, that he measured her usefulness. She had seen that look, on many people at various events; was she a marriageable girl, one that would be a gain for them? Or would Alex be a burden, or bring their name down? Alex had usually met each of those with a glare or a word on what she’d picked up from watching them and their spouse, just to piss them off and get rid of them, much to her mother and father's dismay.

With this man, she knew it had nothing to do with political marriages but her worth as a person and soldier; it was a new feeling, and she reveled in it. Finally, someone who looked passed her family and gender to discover what she was about and could do.

"I'm George," he finally said, still holding her gaze.

After a minute of them staring at one another, Alex finally gave a small nod to him and returned her attention to what was left of her meal. She finished quickly and stood, grabbing bowls from those at her table and taking them with her to the cooks to be washed. John was at her side in a split second, carrying his own and one other bowl, grinning.

“So about those essays…”

“What about them?” Alex asked, smiling at the cook that she passed the bowls to them and thanked them for dinner. It tasted horrible, but she could still thank them for making it. The disgusting food was better than no food at all.

“How do you plan to go about writing them?” After John had dropped off his bowls, he was practically bouncing at her side. She was tempted to liken his behavior to that of a puppy that wanted to play but quickly dismissed the idea. John would be a killer, as would she, and there’s nothing puppy-like about killing a man. “I mean, are you going to do an essay per person or will it be something else?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’m torn between doing it in the style of a journal and maybe one writing per man that catches our interest. It’ll be a work in progress while we get situated here.” The words were flowing more freely; this topic was easier to follow, something familiar that she could slide into without a hitch. The comfort of a subject known to her loosened Alex’s tongue, and she felt the weight slowly lifting from her shoulders.

“Well, until you’re ready to get started, feel free to bounce ideas off of me. I’ll be happy to listen.” Alex nodded to him, and they took their seats again.

Mulligan had apparently gone into Alex being his pet project while they were up and Alex wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Oh, gods…really? She found the nearest small object and chucked it at him. “Seriously Mulligan? That…hold on; I’m trying to think of how to force you to move the topic away from my love life.”

“What love life?” he said cheekily.

The table roared with laughter, and Alex merely dropped her forehead to the table with a groan. Why hadn’t the ground opened up yet? She was on a tight schedule here.

“That isn’t how it’s supposed to sound.”

With a huff, she popped back up and glared at him. “Mulligan, shut it unless you want to wake up with half of your head shaved in the morning.”

George had been watching the exchange with some amusement, although he did feel for the soldier. Oh well, he’d get over it.

Mulligan ignored her glare, "Alex, it's a right of passage."

"I don't give a hoot if it's a right of passage. I'm content with my books and essays, thank you very much. Relationships aren't for me. Not right now, anyway."

Lauren smacked her on the back, nearly winding her, "Eh, it'll change..."

"Wait, you into men?" someone asked.

Alex huffed and yanked out a slip of paper from her pocket and a pen, scribbling out a few notes for later. "Well, I know whose sorry asses will be the first ones to land a prime spot in my essays."

"Can I draw them?" Laurens asked, only to be hit with someone's hat and howls of laughter. "What? Don't worry! I'll make you look pretty...pretty ugly. Hey, I gotta make it realistic!" He dodged another swat.

"Is he always a clown?" George asked.

"Donno...maybe we should have him run a lap around camp and see if he still wants to make us look bad in Alex's essays."

"Oi, don't drag me into this." Alex balled up the scrap of paper and chucked it at Mulligan with a laugh. "I'm already mad at you."

"For what? Trying to get you a girl? Oh, wait, you didn't answer the other question; do you like men?" Mulligan leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands and batting his eyes at Alex.

"Shove off."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Alex ducked her head and rubbed at the back of her neck. She could feel her face burning, all of the way to her ears. "I don't think it matters what a person is, now that I think about it," she muttered. "To me, everyone is appealing..."

"Well, that makes things easier. We can just find you someone here at camp."

"If someone would go for that pretty boy look," a guy chimed in, Revere, Alex later found out. "I don't know. He's kinda cute in a boyish way so...There's gotta be someone around here that has an age kink or a thing for boys."

"Can you guys--"

George cut Alex off, "All right, leave him alone and find a new topic."

Alex flashed him a grateful look and mouthed a thank you. She didn't need to be in the spotlight over this, lest it leads to someone trying to learn too much about her.

"Well, gentleman, this has been enlightening; Laurens and Hamilton, I would like a word with you both later this evening. Until then," George stood and clapped his hands twice to get everyone's attention. "Welcome gentleman and thank you for your service. I am Lieutenant General George Washington, and I'm looking forward to helping you through your training; I know you will become fine soldiers. We'll start tomorrow morning in the western field. Thank you and good evening everyone."

He stole a glance at Alex and John before making for his table to grab his hat and coat. The table he had been sitting at stared at their commander in shock. They had been eating and chatting with him this whole time and didn't know who he was; they had not shown the proper respect. Laurens quietly reminded them that he didn't seem to have a problem with it, so they shouldn't worry, but a feeling of unease still hovered around them.

Alex didn't take her eyes off of Washington's back. So he was their commander? He seemed friendly enough, but when he stood to announce himself, he was no longer a slouching comrade, but a tall and proud man. He didn't need to ask for respect; his presence alone demanded it. Now that Alex knew who he was, it explained her first impression of him.

She tore her eyes away and found Burr a few tables over staring at her. Alex couldn't tell if he had zoned out or if that expression was critical. Why was he staring at her? She hadn't done anything to warrant attention, right? And he'd already given her a weird feeling when they first met. Burr was sharp, suspicious of everything and everyone, it seemed, and if anyone figured out who she was, it would be him. Unsure of what else to do, she flashed him a small smile, trying to be friendly, and then turned back to John, putting Burr out of her mind for the moment.

He didn't give her time to think about anything else.

Alex and John had just started planning their essays when a throat cleared above them. The pair stopped their excited ramblings immediately upon seeing who it was. John had a hardened expression, and he tensed like he was ready to fight; they'd need to have a discussion about his temper. Alex however, shifted in her seat uncomfortably and tried to play it off as her turning to face Burr. She didn't want to be too close to the man. Alex wanted to run like Hell was on her heels to get away from him.

"I briefly heard that Washington wanted to see you both. Why?" His tone was even, too measured for it to be normal and Alex immediately tensed, preparing herself to fight if she needed to make an escape.

"Why do you need to know?" John, to his credit, managed to keep his voice neutral...or, well, mostly neutral. Alex could still hear a little of the bite behind his tone.

"Because I'm your superior and I want to know what you idiots did to wind up in his tent on your first night." There it was. Alex heard the irritation that time.

"Mr. Burr, sir, we don't have a clue either. He didn't seem pissed at us, though, so that has to count for something, right?" Since when was she the voice of reason? Since her Gran wasn't here to save her hide if she got herself into trouble. Maybe she was growing up after all. "We know as much as you do."

"Then allow me to escort you both."

Alex stood, picking up the scrap of paper she'd had written on earlier, and flashed Burr a sweet smile. "I doubt that will be necessary sir. I'm sure that the general will call for you if there's a problem."

The answer only seemed to anger him, although the only tell was a twitch of his jaw, teeth grinding. "And if I command it?"

Alex, not to be cowed by just another idiot with power, closed the distance between them. And while he stood at a few inches taller than her, leaving Alex having to tip her head back to meet his eye, she still managed to make just as large of a presence.

Her smile was still sweet, innocent in its kindness, but her tone was just as threatening. "Then one or both of us will end up in Washington's tent for something other than what he'd wanted in the first place."

"Is that a threat, kid?"

Before Alex could do or say anything more, John grabbed her arm and tugged her away from Burr, murmuring that he wasn't worth it at the moment. "Save it for training, and then you can beat his ass without consequences," he muttered, hoping it would appease her.

Burr's smug smirk served to piss Alex off, and, not to be outdone and prevented from having the last word, Alex called out that Burr was a slimeball from a swamp and that he smelled worse than a rotting corpse's ass. Half of the men at all of the tables started laughing but what counted as a win for Alex was to see the smirk wiped off of Burr's face. Whatever punishment she got for that would be worth it.


	6. To Threaten Or To Not Threaten? That Is The Stupid Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and John become useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a tiny chapter. The next will likely be a partial filler as well, hopping here and there in their timelines as they start training.

John waited until they were halfway to Washington's tent before he let go of Alex and bent over, holding his stomach as he laughed. Alex's annoyance faded at the sound of it and at the sight of John being as happy as he was. The war was going to be hell, but if she could keep that grin on his face throughout the whole ordeal, then maybe everything would turn out all right.

"I cannot believe you said that," he gasped, wiping his face clear of the tears that had formed and fallen, leaving streak marks over his freckled skin. "Man, I wish I could have seen his face..."

The pair started walking, Alex grinning, "Well, the smirk was gone after that. I'll probably suffer for it later, but at least we all got a laugh out of it."

"Watch, he'll find a way to stick us in KP for the next week, at least. I mean, you embarrassed him in front of half the camp; he will think you had it coming." John watched as Alex yanked the scrap out of her pocket again, making a small note. "What are you writing?"

"Ideas for things I want to pen later." She returned the paper to its home in her pocket and tucked the pen behind her ear for the moment. "I'm worried, though. I have no one to send me paper or ink when I run out. I completely forgot to get extra."

"I'm sure we'll find a way for you to keep a steady supply of it," he assured her.

When they got to Washington's tent, a structure that was two or three times the size of theirs, they were stopped by a soldier stationed outside.

"Um, I'm Hamilton, and this is Laurens; we were asked to drop in this evening?" Her words had slowed, anxiety forcing her to choose her words wisely. However, the soldier knew to expect two men by those names and popped inside the tent to let Washington know that they were here.

After a moment, he came back outside and motioned for them to go in.

John and Alex hesitantly stepped inside, finding the man from earlier sitting at a makeshift desk, finishing a letter that he fanned to dry the ink, and then he folded it to be mailed out. It was only when he finished sealing it that he stood to greet them.

"Gentleman, please have a seat. You're here sooner than I expected." Alex and John joined him at the desk, taking a seat after Washington did. The Lieutenant General studied the pair before seeming to come to some sort of conclusion. "You may relax. You have done nothing wrong."

Yet, John and Alex thought.

"Then why are we here, sir?" Alex asked first.

Washington looked to John first, "You're in the upper class, yes?"

"Yes, sir." John gave a quick nod and held the man's gaze. "My father is part of the high council."

"That Laurens? I didn't realize that he would let you come out here." He leaned back in his chair, somehow managing to relax while keeping his perfect posture.

John seemed to sit up straighter, proud of his decision to join the military. "They needed at least one man from every household. I didn't think it was right for someone in the upper class to worm their way out of it. My father was...upset, to say the least."

There was a slight twinkle in Washington's eyes, the noticeable tell of mirth in an otherwise stoic expression. Alex wondered if they would be taught how to do that in training. She had never managed to make a mask for herself; Alex was an open book most days.

"Do you think he would be amenable to aiding us in our need to keep the military well supplied? Or do you believe he would know someone that could?" Washington stood, pacing as he continued. "I'm asking because we will need what help that people can afford to give. We are comfortable now, with the supplies we have, but it will not stay that way. The support we will need the most of would be food, and also coats and blankets for when winter settles in. If he cannot, then maybe a friend of his, or even all of his contacts. Would you be amenable to writing to him to ask? If he declines, then I will try as a last resort."

If John was surprised by the request, he didn't show it; or maybe Alex just couldn't see it yet. She had only met him earlier that afternoon and couldn't possibly pick out every detail of his behavior and body language. "I would be honored to do so, sir. I will write to him this evening if you would like."

Washington paused in his pacing when he was beside his desk, and he grabbed a pen and sheets of paper, passing it to him. "You can do so now at one of the aid desks behind you while I work with Hamilton."

Nodding, John cast a quick glance at Alex as he stood, taking the supplies given to write the requested letter.

When Washington turned his attention to Alex, it was all she could do not to squirm under the intensity. She would swear that he could see right through her facade, knew her lie.

"Hamilton, are you upper-middle class or upper class? I can't quite tell," he asked.

Shit. How was she supposed to explain this one? What had she said earlier? Oh, right.

"My father is upper class, but my mother and I live as upper-middle." At Washington's questioning look, she further explained, "I'm here in his place. Even if I'm the bastard, he's been kind to my mother and me, and I felt that I owe it to him to serve."

"Who's your father?"

Dammit.

"James Madison. He...to save face, he doesn't talk about us, and we do not talk about him. It seems cold, but we collectively agreed that it would be for the best." She couldn't help how she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling horrible for lying to their commander, but knowing that she would be sent home, at best, if Alex told the truth. Alex decided that she would need to write a letter to her father, wording it carefully to explain her carefully crafted story without giving anything away as to what she was. "Are you wanting me to write to him too?

"I didn't know he had a son," Washington murmured.

"Like I said, sir, we all kept quiet." Please take the lie, she thought. If nothing else, she could play off her discomfort as her keeping that truth to herself, never sharing it with someone.

"Yes, I would appreciate it if you would write to him. Ask him the same as Laurens will do of his father." When Alex nodded, Washington addressed them both. "That is not the only reason I requested your presence. You both are, per your admission, excellent writers, yes?"

The pair nodded, looking to one another with the silent question of why that neither of them could pin down an answer for.

"I would appreciate it if you both aided me here on occasion. I will still have you two go through training with the rest of my men, but I may call on you again if I have a need for your assistance. When we finish training and move, I will see if the arrangement will continue or if you will remain with your fellow soldiers. Are you willing?" Another shared look between the soldiers, another silent conversation. Neither were cowards; they wanted to fight with everyone else, but this, in its own right, would be honorable jobs. They would be the ones advocating for their comrades, keeping them fed with what connections they had.

"I have...dirt on a few of my father's friends. If they decide to be disagreeable, I might be able to persuade them into helping." Neither would like it, but Alex knew John was right, in a way. They would need to fight dirty on occasion to meet their needs.

"I do as well, but that should probably be a plan b sort of thing," Alex added. "Threatening them from the get-go will enrage them early on, and we may not be able to sustain that level of control."

"But if we force them into helping now, we can use one tidbit at a time to space it out," was John's argument.

"John, they'll feel backed into a corner and lash out like beasts if we crowd them too soon. Ease them into it, sure, but only when we're desperate and they're obstinate."

"Boys, stop." John and Alex halted their debate, but they were smiling slightly. Washington resisted the urge to rub a hand over his face in exasperation. What has he gotten himself into? Will they always be like this? he wondered. "I'm afraid I must side with Hamilton on this. We can't attack them viciously the moment they become disagreeable. That would burn our bridges and isolate us when we are at our most desperate. We can't allow that to happen."

Alex's smile turned into a slight smirk, which she dropped promptly at Washington clearing his throat.

"Write your letters this evening, I'll stamp the seals, and they can be sent out in the morning." He passed supplies to Alex, who joined John at one of the smaller desks. Well, they wanted to be at the center of it; they had made it.


	7. Am I Pretty?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulligan and Alex shinanigans.  
> A wild von Steuban appears with not so good news for our heroine.  
> People think Alex is pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How long has it been since I updated this? Eons, it seems.
> 
>  
> 
> Idk how I feel about this chapter. I'm afraid that I may have put too much in but I needed to work my way into the new characters and moving the plot along.
> 
> Mulligan and Alex play dress up during training and cause the teams to fail. I think I'm hilarious, Mulligan thinks he's hilarious, but y'all are probably going to be like Burr in this chapter. That man is so done with everything.

Training was hell.

No, really, it was hell.

Alex collapsed into her cot most nights, exhausted and missing dinner because she needed the rest. She was horrible in some of the stuff they did, excelled in others.

Sparring=She'd land on her ass in point three seconds flat

Physical Training=She was the slowest runner and the weakest among her peers. It was pathetic.

Guns=She was slow to load, but she was a good shot and had an eye for judging distance and compensating for the recoil and the wind. She didn't have much experience with firing a gun back home, but hey, small miracles and at least no one was yelling at her. After week two, they didn't force her into that practice block as often as everyone else. Alex was sent to work with Washington during that period, and she was happy to be out of the heat of the sun for a few hours.

Clerking=This was just as exhausting as everything else, but it was more mentally taxing than anything. The diplomacy of it all was what frustrated her; Alex was used to being blunt with her audience, but she couldn't act that way when her job was to suck up to diplomats and merchants. The armies needed supplies, and they couldn't acquire them from those they made enemies of.

Spying/Smuggling=Like her aim, Alex found her nitch. She and Mulligan made for a great team and, no offense to John, they paired up every night when they had training. One night, the pair wound up being the "damsels in distress" because two other soldiers who were lazing about instead of trying to finish their "mission" exercise the previous night decided that it would be great to start a fight with them. Or, well, they poked a bear named Alex and then it turned into a fight.

Alex and Mulligan's punishment was that they had to pose as captives that needed a secret rescue. There was a lean-to in the middle of a forest, and they started a small fire to stay warm in the cool night. However, Mulligan had the bright idea of them dressing up like ladies and putting on gaudy makeup. Their dresses were really just spare blankets Mulligan had quickly sewn into something resembling dresses. Alex was worried that the risk of it ending with her being caught wasn't worth the fun it would be. In the end, she managed to hold her secret and even helped Mulligan put on the makeup that...actually, she didn't know where he got it and didn't ask.

"Oh, I look beautiful, don't I, Alex?" Mulligan adjusted his skirts.

Alex snorted with laughter when he batted his eyes at her, "Gorgeous. Our soldiers will be swooning when they get a look atcha."

"They'd better. I'm hot." Alex shook her head, smiling, and went back to applying her own. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Apply makeup."

Oh. Let's see...

"I watched my mother a few times. I mean, I'm great with a pen so why not eye charcoal?" Alex shrugged nonchalantly and countered with, "Where did you learn to sew?"

"Point made."

"Damn straight."

When it came time for their comrades to search for them, one pair at a time, the first team that found them froze in place when they found Mulligan and Alex, leaning against a wall and throwing the men seductive winks. The winks did it, and the men howled with laughter. They made them swear that they wouldn't tell anyone when they went back. Every team that came in to find them failed to bring Alex and Mulligan back. About halfway through, the officers had enough of whatever was preventing them from escorting the "prisoners" back. Their soldiers were coming back snickering and grinning like idiots. Aaron Burr was the one sent in to find out what was going on. When he found Alex and Mulligan, Burr's lip twitched slightly, but he quickly schooled his features, pointing in the direction of camp. "You two get to pay Washington a visit...in that getup."  
Then the smirk appeared.

Mulligan and Alex went as ordered, laughter and catcalls following them through the camp until they reached Washington's tent. Mulligan leaned over and whispered, "I think they like you better. You're the pretty boy, remember?"

Alex had only elbowed him and looked to the guards. "Burr sent us to see the general. Ah, I'm sure you could ascertain the why."

The guards were even laughing which was why Washington stepped out before they could go inside. Their commander was not easily startled or surprised, but this would be one of those few minutes where one could say that he honestly didn't know what to do, say, or think. His dark eyes were wide with shock as he looked at his soldier and his aide. Generals were people too and seeing two grown men dressed up in skirts and makeup was as much of a shock as it was to the common man. Washington's eyes finally settled on Alex, gaze moving from head to toe to take her in. It wasn't right for a soldier to be that beautiful and Washington thanked every deity that any warmth on his cheeks wouldn't be seen. Alex was blushing too, although she was grinning with mirth. Both of his soldiers' smiles were unrepentant.

Finally, Washington got over his shock and ran a hand over his face. "Do I even want to know?"

"Actually, Your Excellency, I think you would enjoy this story."

Alex didn't get to launch into her story before Washington waved it off. "I'm not sure if I want to know the details. Just--" He really wanted to know how they snuck it out there. "How did you manage to smuggle that passed your commanders?"

Mulligan pressed a hand to his chest, confident smirk in place, "Because Alex here and myself are the best in our stealth training blocks. There's a reason for that and here's the proof."

"And how did you get the makeup on? It looks very go--" Washington cleared his throat; he shouldn't encourage this. He motioned for them to follow him inside and the pair gathered around his desk. Washington looked uncomfortable as he took a seat at his desk, and he was silent long enough that Alex and Mulligan began squirming. It was weird to have their commander sitting in silence with them just...standing there. They didn't know if they should salute or take a seat or...

"Thinking about it, I'm glad you're dressed this way. It might be useful." Mulligan and Alex glanced at each other and then back at Washington. What could possibly be useful about them dressed as women? "I may need to ask a favor, but know that you can change your mind at any time and not worry about being in trouble for it." A pause. "We have a guest arriving tomorrow, and I will warn you that he has a...fondness for pretty young men. Are either of you opposed to him seeing you like this? If not, I can find a different punishment for your behavior. And Alex, I would like it if you could ask your friend Laurens as well. Mulligan, you may not quite be his...favorite look, but you might prove useful anyway."

Alex didn't think it would matter because she was a woman, but then she remembered that she was pretending to be a man while she was here. That could pose a problem, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Mulligan and Alex looked to one another and then back at Washington.

"I'm in," Mulligan said first.

Alex offered a nervous smile, "I will too, and I will ask Laurens if he is interested as well."

Washington seemed to slump in relief. "We really need his help if we're going to win this mess of a war. Thank you. Mulligan, clean up and change, report to the west side of camp to escort von Steuben to this tent." Alex didn't think that her not being allowed to change was unfair. "He just arrived, and he would love to be welcomed by a nice looking young man. I am sure he would enjoy you telling him about your evening." The sarcasm was not lost on them. "Hamilton, you get to stay here and stew in your shame because I am sure that this was your idea. Steuben will be joining us shortly."

Mulligan snorted, but he didn't take the credit; neither of them bothered to correct the general. When Mulligan left, Alex made for her writing desk. She figured she would just pick up on where she left off, but Washington had other ideas.

"You and Laurens, I may have you both help von Steuben personally while he is here if you're comfortable with that. Tell him no if you need to, and I can promise you he wouldn't be offended and would back off immediately. If he doesn't, please let me know and I will make it stop." Washington honest to goodness fidgetted with his quill and then looked up to meet Alex's eyes. "Again, please don't hesitate to say no to this."

Alex said nothing for a time, weighing her options. Sure, she had just agreed, but she could back out at any time if she wanted or needed to. Maybe this could work. Alex could always tell von Steuben no and then she wouldn't have to worry about his advances. But, if he liked the boyish-looking young men, Alex figured she was as close as she could get and might be able to use that to her advantage, depending on the situation.

Finally, Alex met Washington's gaze again, swallowed nervously, and then nodded. Done. It was agreed that they would try to do what they could to stay on his good side.

"Another thing. He is not the only man who will be joining us this week. Our other aid is a young Marquis from France with the resources we need. Von Steuben will provide the training; the Marquis will provide the funding. The Marquis is closer to your age than the other ranked officers he will sometimes work with, and I expect that he will be working closely with you and Laurens as my aides."

Alex nodded, trying to process all of this. It was far too much, and she blinked slowly at him before quickly scribbling down notes to remember everything, add in opinions and notes for herself and her behavior, and more before she looked back up to see Washington still watching her. Alex slowly put down her quill. "You hadn't finished speaking, had you?"

His smile was wry. "No, and that was ten minutes ago. Where do you go when you write?"

Alex looked at the page of scribbled notes, fiddling with the corner of the paper. "I have too much in my head sometimes, and I have to write it all down before I forget it all or lose my mind. If I'm not working on an essay or something you've assigned, but I'm still writing, that's what I'm doing. A sort of word vomit, I guess. Mm, I suppose I could liken it to fish swimming in a barrel, and for whatever reason, you can't easily catch them, so you dump the barrel into a net to drain the water and catch the fish that way. My mind is full of fluttering fish that I can't catch sometimes, so I have to dump the barrel to get them."

She shied away from meeting Washington's inquisitive gaze and felt embarrassment creeping in. What she had said sounded ridiculous, didn't it?

"That sounds like something my brother would have said." Her eyes flicked up to meet his, but he wasn't really looking at her. Washington wasn't there in the tent with her anymore.

"Then I guess he and I could be an odd team. Us and our fish brains."

Washington's eyes focused again, and despite his efforts to fight the smile, his eyes crinkled with mirth. "You may have been, yes. He'd have enjoyed your company I think."

"You're using past tense," she noted aloud.

A shadow fell over Washington's expression, but before he could express his thoughts, there was a ruckus outside the tent. A large man barged in, extravagant in his dress and behavior and boisterous. Mulligan followed close behind, a grin on his face, and then two young men came after. Washington had been correct; von Steuben liked young men with soft features. Alex figured she and Laurens could fit right in to make nice with the man.

Mulligan came to stand next to her chair. "I have no idea what he's saying, but I like him already." It took Alex a moment to decipher it, but when she did, her face turned bright red. Mulligan noticed everything and picked up on her blush. "What? Do you know what he's saying."

She nodded slowly, eyes wide and the blush spreading up to her ears. "Yes. Yes, he's uh, bawdy, I'll give him that."

Von Steuben wasted no time in approaching Washington and shaking his hand vigorously, smiling and chatting like they'd known each other for years. Washington, bless him, looked completely lost and Alex had to be the one to save him.

She stood and straightened her "dress" before approaching the two men, smiling slightly at Washington before turning to von Steuben to listen to his words. Alex did her best to uh, cut out the inappropriate language and things for the sake of her general's dignity. "He says that it's an honor to meet you and that he appreciates the welcome he's received so far and that--"

Von Steuben cut her off when he turned to her, and his eyes widened. " _You're...one of the most beautiful young men I have seen since coming here._ " He quickly took her hand and kissed the top of it, which worsened the blush and caused Alex to squeak in alarm. " _And a shy boy at that? My dear general, you are lucky!_ "

"H-he uhm, he compliments your...your t-tastes on aides sir and s-says that...you're very fortunate to-to h-have me here?" Oh, it was painful even to say. So embarrassing to say something like that about herself. Alex prided herself on her intelligence, not...whatever this is. Washington seemed just as appalled and floundered to find a response.

"You know what he's saying?" Alex nodded. "I may need you more often, Hamilton." She could do that...maybe. "You may thank him and say that the luck lay with the draft, not by his choosing."

She returned her attention to their guest and smiled weakly, " _You're very kind sir, thank you. His Excellency says thank you, but the draft is what brought us here._ "

" _But you are here, yes? He could have picked others, but he brought you into this tent._ "

Alex didn't like what he implied, and her expression darkened. " _I was chosen because I am skilled with a pen, not because I have a pretty face._ "

"Hamilton?" Washington's voice drew her out of the impending lecture she was about to give von Steuben. "What did he say?"

"He implied something inappropriate sir, and I do not wish to repeat it."

"Just...please don't start a war."

Von Steuben watched the interaction and smiled, looking back at his aides and then at Alex. Alex had a bit of a bite, and the foreigner studied her features a little more closely before grinning. " _I believe we have found a lioness and not a lion._ " The three smiled while Alex felt all of the color drain from her face. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

" _N-no. No. Nonononono. That's not true._ " She had to nip this in the bud before it got worse.

Von Steuben's smile fell at seeing the fear in her eyes. " _I had forgotten that you were not allowed to serve in the militia in this country. Please forgive me for overstepping my bounds. I will not breathe a word of it._ "

She seemed wary, but eventually, she gave a single nod. " _Please don't. I have my reasons, and I cannot be found out without terrible...it would not be a pretty sight if I'm caught. What gave it away?_ "

" _Most would drop a subject like that, not look as if they're going to rain down fire from heavens. That, and your makeup frames your soft features too well. Posing as a man but dressed like a woman. Isn't that risky?_ "

" _I didn't have a choice._ "

"I can't be of use to the conversation if I'm not included, Hamilton," Washington butted in.

"I'm sorry sir, he...had news for me about a subject dear to me and my writing. It was disturbing." She quickly translated the excuse to von Steuben and hoped that he got the hint.

The man gave a short nod and then turned to address Washington again. This went on for several hours, it seemed, and von Steuben's men had long since fallen asleep at the desks they'd occupied while they waited for the meeting to end while Mulligan had called it a night. Alex herself felt ready to drop where she stood. Everyone was sitting but her, and her feet and legs ached with fatigue. It took a while, but von Steuben eventually noticed her exhaustion and stood.

" _I apologize. I had forgotten that your men have been training these last few weeks. Your poor aide is falling asleep on his feet._ " Alex hesitated to translate it. It felt too much like giving up, but the man was right; Alex thought she could fall asleep in just the way the man had described. She did her duty and translated, and Washington took a moment to see the same thing and then marveled at how late it had become.

" _I would love to continue this conversation in the morning, sir. And let your poor boy rest. They don't stay pretty when they haven't had sleep._ " Von Steuben winked at her at the last comment and Alex blushed again when she translated.

"Yes, I think Alex has earned the extra sleep tomorrow and a pardon from training. I'm sorry to have kept you up, Hamilton." He stood and shook von Steuben's hand before their guest went to wake his aides to corral them to bed.

"It's fine, sir. This is why I'm here, remember?" She flashed him a tired smile and Washington mirrored it.

"Go get some sleep and don't report back here until noon. You're excused from training until we work out a schedule that'll allow you to keep all of your commitments." Alex inwardly groaned at that. More things on her to-do list? Training, Washington's aide, and now the translator. She loved a steady stream of work, don't get her wrong, but she was dead on her feet by the time the sun went down already. How was she going to add a third thing to it?

"Sir, I will do my best with the tasks you've presented me with, although I will openly admit that I'm drained by the time I head for my cot. I don't know how much more I can fit onto my plate." Washington hadn't thought of that. With how Alex just plowed through everything almost effortlessly, he had assumed that the workload wasn't too much.

"If it tires you so, then perhaps go to a training block once every other day. It won't be a full load of physical activity, but perhaps you'll maintain your other duties with more vigor." He took note of the bags under her eyes, noticeable even through the makeup.

Alex wanted to cry in relief. "Thank you, sir. I promise to focus more fully on whatever work you give me."

"That's all I ask. Dismissed, Hamilton." His own smile was tired, but it still held a flicker of fondness.

She smiled gratefully, gave him a slight bow, and then trudged out of the tent and through camp to her own tent. Alex only just managed to change into her nightwear and loosen the bindings for her to sleep. She did not, however, bother to wash her face off. She could do it in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmu on Tumblr at ixhadbadxdays.


	8. New Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marquis comes swooping in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll add more in the next chapter about Laurens and Mulligan and Lafayette.  
> ;;;;;;;;;)

Alex fell into her new routine, with John now helping as he was also a "youthful beauty." Steuben took to him immediately, and although John enjoyed the attention, he wasn't too interested. No. He wasn't interested in anyone until their next guest arrived. One, Marquis de Lafayette. He was handsome. The whole "tall, dark and handsome" that Alex remembered women speaking of when discussing the men that came to town certainly applied. And he had a sort of lazy grace about him. Like a cat, she thought. And while the Marquis' movements were fluid, Washington's were measured and precise. There was nothing smooth about his grace.

And the Marquis was kind, to boot.  
  
It wasn't just John that had taken to him either. Mulligan seemed to be just as enamored with the man.

When she had first met him, Alex would admit that she was charmed by his easy smile, warm personality, and his ability to light up a tent the moment he stepped in. The day he arrived, he had strode into Washington's tent while they were working, and while it was with less fanfare than von Steuben, he still made an entrance.  
  
Once again, she turned into a translator because he didn't know much English. However, the sudden added job was worth it to see Washington's face when the Marquis kissed each cheek. Alex had to stifle her laughter as the general struggled to come up with a response to that. Eventually, he settled for a handshake when Alex managed to move passed her amusement long enough to explain to the Marquis as to why Washington was flustered.  
  
" _Then I will just have to do it more often!_ " He smiled brightly and gave a mock bow before kissing Alex's cheeks too. " _It's a pleasure to meet you...?_ "  
  
" _Oh! Um, Alex. Alex Hamilton. It's an honor to meet you as well._ " She stood on her toes and repeated the gesture, having been a little too stunned herself. " _Do you need me to be your translator?_ "  
  
" _Yes, I will need the help. The general does not speak French?"_

" _No. I'm having to translate for von Steuben too. Now THAT is a task. So crude..."_ She smiled and was about to continue before Washington cleared his throat to gain their attention.  
  
"Care to share your secrets with me or will you two be gossiping hens?" He had taken the position of leaning against his desk. "Something about our other guest?"  
  
"He told the Marquis that von Steuben has a way with crude language," John added helpfully.  
  
"John!" Alex shot him a look. They weren't supposed to tell the general that.  
  
"Really? Hamilton, you never said anything about that. Since when has he been crude?" Well shit.  
  
Alex ran a hand through her hair, remembering too late that it was pulled back. She answered Washington while she fixed it. "Since the moment he got here. I have been trying to translate into more polite language for your benefit, your excellency." Alex felt a tug at her sleeve and returned her attention to the Marquis.  
  
" _What are you saying?_ " With a sigh, Alex reexplained everything for the man.  
  
Washington called for their attention again. "Hamilton and Laurens, do you mind if the Marquis bunks with you until I can get him more suitable accommodations?" Neither minded. "And is this agreeable for you Marquis?"  
  
Alex translated it and was stunned when the Marquis jump her, throwing his arms around her and hopping excitedly. _"Yes! Yes I would love that very much!"_  
  
"I'll take that as a yes," Washington drawled. "Then it's settled. The Marquis will stay with you for now. Laurens, would you take him for us and help him settle in?" John agreed and quickly guided their guest out of the tent.  
  
"He's just a boy. I thought he'd be at least a little older, not your age." Alex looked away from where her friend had exited to meet Washington's eyes. "How will I work with that, Hamilton?"  
  
"The same way you do with Laurens and I. We're functioning just fine and you've apparently found something useful in us and our sorry selves. I'm sure you'll think of something, sir." She flashed him a small grin and returned to her desk.  
  
"Let's hope you're right."  
  
"I'm always right."


	9. A Lone General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The loneliness of power and a rush execution of attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a filler chapter to hop into on what's basically the next segment of finishing their training and marching out after Washington's father had left two weeks before.  
> It'll get angsty. It'll be awkward. It'll have my usual brand of terrible humor. It'll be close calls on Alex's identity again.

Washington wasn't sure what to think. Two of his recruits had waltzed to his tent, dolled up in makeup and trying to hide their grins, and failing. It was ridiculous, and everyone present knew that. To top it off, damn Hamilton looked nice. All awkward, boyish charm, dolled up pretty for whoever laid their eyes on him. And Mulligan? Mulligan looked ridiculous in comparison.  
  
Things had escalated from there.  
  
Von Steuben had a way of flustering his young aide, and it was killing him inside not to know what was being said. He didn't need to know the language to see that Hamilton was partially lying to him. He wasn't giving him the full message, and his blush and stuttering were proof of that. And when his aide looked ready to throttle von Steuben, Washington was offended for him without knowing what was said. And though he didn't know the language, the word for lion was easy enough to pick out. He wondered what it meant.  
  
The next few days slowly passed them by, and Washington was forever grateful for Laurens and Hamilton. Both worked harder than anyone else in his staff, and they did more work than the others combined. Each. It was impressive, and Washington was getting through his correspondences faster than he ever had. And the guy never quit it seemed. Washington had to order him to turn in one afternoon when he came back in the morning to find Hamilton still working.  
  
It shouldn't have to be like that, but once more, Washington was grateful.  
  
Their newest source of financial assistance, the Marquis, was almost as flouncy as the Baron. He was a pretty young man, and intelligent, which they needed, but Washington was always worried that the man would leave them if he weren't given accommodations that met the standards of a man of his station. They just couldn't afford it. But he wasn't leaving. In fact, he immediately befriended his aides and one of their friends; it was like two magnets coming together with a solid bond. The Marquis didn't seem to mind that he was sharing a residence with three young men of the lowest ranks; he thrived on it, and it made Washington wonder if the man didn't have any friends before he came here. He could understand the desire to latch onto the first person to show him any level of genuine kindness; Washington had few friends himself in which his relationships with them were not strong enough to do more than meet for the occasional drink. Even then, their friendships didn't extend beyond that. Washington was near the top of the social pyramid, and true friends were far and few between. The game of secrets and backstabbing were tiring, and it was difficult to find anyone suitable for a long term relation.  
  
Not that he would have the ability to act on them if he did. He was a lieutenant general and had far too many responsibilities for that.  
  
At least he had his team of aides. He'd vetted each of them before letting them be more than ghost writers in their employment. They were like a small family, he supposed. Washington wondered what role he'd play in that situation, but then he'd remember that he had more important things to worry about.  
  
The war was calling.

  
\--

  
The plan of attack was coming. The monarch and his armies would be moving in on the opposing resistance shortly, and they couldn't wait to have another nation under their belts.  
  
Reports had come in about the nation's military preparing for war. Becons had been lit then. He'd off whoever was part of that party, but he couldn't remember who had been among them to do anything about it. It would push their schedule forward, but they had the numbers to make a dent in the country's defenses.  
  
"What did the reports say on how much longer it'll take for them to finish training their troops?"  
  
"About three more months, Your Majesty."  
  
"Then we must be ready to attack by the end of this month. We can swiftly take over while they're vulnerable."  
  
"Sire, that's only two and a half weeks! We can't possibly be ready by then."  
  
The king glared at the advisor and stood from his dais, looming over the man. "Make it happen or I will find your replacement."


	10. Favoritism Has Its Perks, Like Hot Tea Made By A Certain Someone, For Example

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lafayette is Ally #4.  
> Alex needs to be careful.  
> Washington has a favorite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I really at Ch 10 now?? Wow. The next chapter will be Washington's POV, hopefully, and sad things happen.  
> Enjoy the fluff while you can.

Winter was drawing nearer, and the supply carts with blankets and coats were late, the cause unknown. All they did know, was that it was getting cold out and everyone was starting to share bunks to keep warm at night. Now, this posed a bit of a problem for Alex. Did she risk getting sick because she was cold? Or did she risk being found out when she was stuck cuddling one of her friends?

She held out as long as she could, but the cold never agreed with her, and she usually had coughing fits. Alex knew how to combat it, but they didn't have the materials needed for her to make a scarf and keep her core warm to ward off the relentless coughs. She was miserable, and people were miserable just looking at her.  
  
One time, Washington was having a rough day and snapped at her to cease her coughing. Alex had done her best, but in the end, the glares she received from the other aides was enough to force her to pack up and walk around camp for a bit to try and warm up. Her abrupt departure didn't sit well with the general either, so she got another lecture when she got back.  
  
It was only after everyone was turning in for the evening on that day that she forced him--yes, tiny her forced the general--to stay after so she could explain herself and lecture him right back on his attitude towards her and the other aides he'd needlessly snapped at that day. That didn't sit well with him, but he was too tired to argue with her and grumbled an apology before retiring for the evening. She would get a much kinder apology in the morning after he'd had some sleep, but for now, he was cranky.  
  
And in an attempt to avoid returning to her tent to sleep and having to, once again, ward off the offers to share a bunk with one of the others, she tried to stay late and keep working. At least in here, she could keep a fire going to keep her warm-ish. Lafayette was the one to find her when she hadn't returned that night and all but dragged her to bed; her protests fell on deaf ears and upon feeling how cold she was and noting the shivering, declared that she was not allowed to sleep alone anymore until winter ended. Now that started an argument. Alex was not having it, but she didn't get a choice in the end when Lafayette shoved her onto his cot and yanked her boots off, immediately ripping her blanket from her cot and crawling in under the layers of blankets beside her.  
  
They squirmed, and Alex fought to escape the hold he was trying to get. Lafayette trapped her arms at her sides with his own arms wrapped around her to lock in place. Alex had tensed; his arms were way too close to where she did not need them to be. And it didn't take long for Lafayette to shift just right to run over her chest and feel the tell-tale bumps that should not be on a man. He froze beside her, breath catching. Neither moved for a moment, Alex praying that Lafayette wouldn't blab, and Lafayette trying to process the discovery.  
  
" _You could go to prison_ ," he whispered to her in French. Was that a threat? Was he going to just tell someone or was he going to blackmail her? Would he listen to her side of the story at all? Did he even care? The Marquis could practically hear the wheels turning in her head and squeezed slightly before letting his arms go slack. " _I won't tell_."  
  
" _Swear to me that you won't_." Alex wasn't sure if it was the cold or her fear that had her shaking.  
  
" _I swear on my honor and my title that I will not breathe a word of this without your permission, and I promise to assist you in anyway I can to guard it_." There was a tense silence, and then Lafayette could feel Alex relaxing a little. " _I'd like to know why though_."  
  
" _Walk with me tomorrow during lunch, and I'll explain_." He was satisfied with that, and after a few minutes of what had turned into a comforting silence, both fell asleep, wrapped up in one another.  
  
Now, two people knew. No, four. The Baron's aides knew about it too. She could worry about it later.  
  
\--  
  
Alex knew she was fortunate in who she could call friend. Lafayette had stayed true to his word and also managed to procure things she needed as a woman. Alex nearly kissed him for that, as what she had were worn out; she'd safely tucked those into her spare boots in her trunk.  
  
She did get the apology from Washington, and he seemed awkward as he rested a hand on her shoulder while he gave it. Later on, Lafayette did get the full story of what was going on and why she was here. He wound up hugging her too tightly and murmuring that she was too kind for this world. Alex didn't think that about herself. She could be very selfish. For example, she hated that she felt jealous when her friends were with others without her. It was petty, but they were some of the first good friends of hers, and she was possessive. Alex knew she needed to work on that flaw a bit.  
  
And also her sharp tongue.  
  
Burr, she avoided like the plague, but Alex and John swore that the man had it out for the pair of them, more Alex than John. He was always nitpicking what she did, her uniform, her hair, her posture, her sloppy salutes (if Washington was fine with them, Alex didn't see the problem), and whatever else he could pick out. She'd had to run more laps around the mess tent over her uniform or salutes...She didn't have the energy for that.  
  
Hense, avoiding him. If they didn't see each other, then there would be nothing to be punished for.  
  
Although, one time Washington told him off for snapping at Alex when they were in Washington's office. She was nose deep in letters and contracts and didn't notice anyone coming or going. Most of her superiors didn't mind. They knew her work ethic, and they knew that Washington was fine with it. So when Burr walked in, and Alex didn't rise from her chair or at least acknowledge him, he'd said something. And the look on his face told her that he thought that Washington was going to thank him for it or something. Instead, she'd heard Burr chastising her and looked up, a little dazed, and by the time she'd focused on what was going on, Washington was already laying into him over pettiness and rushed Burr through whatever he needed.  
  
Alex still wasn't sure what happened, even after Washington and the aides turned to look for her reaction. The aides looked a little smug about something, although some seemed shocked. Washington looked almost sheepish, but the expression was gone as quick as it came. For her, he'd simply reminded her of the rule, but stressed that she and the other aides were busy with more important work and it was okay if they didn't stand and salute every time someone came in.  
  
Alex had nodded silently and gone back to work. The other aides kept looking between them as if they were trying to solve a puzzle of some kind. Alex felt the stares but did her best to ignore them. Only when everyone stopped did she finally look up to find that Washington was still watching her with a thoughtful expression. She'd quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure that he was looking at her and not something else. Nope. It was her.  
  
She could feel her face warming up the longer they both sat there, not breaking eye contact. The look, despite being curious and maybe a little torn, like the look someone has just before they speak after they've been mulling over an answer; it was warm and kind. Fond. There's a good word for it. That wasn't the first time she saw the look either. There was the time she got into a debate with one of the aides during breakfast one day. She'd glanced up after she had delivered her counter argument to see the slight smile that Washington was hiding behind his coffee while he and the other officers looked on in amusement. Another time was when she'd fallen asleep at her desk after working two days straight without sleep. He'd woken her when the day ended, and he was smiling again as he helped her up and walked her back to her tent to go to bed for the night. She didn't see many smiles directed at anyone else unless they'd brought him good news. Alex didn't usually have good news to deliver him when someone responded to one of her letters.  
  
Then another instance where she'd fallen asleep at her desk, she'd woken in the middle of the night to find Washington's coat draped over her with the man himself still awake and working on something. She didn't move or say anything for a time, basking in the warmth and scent of his wool coat. That alone nearly had her falling asleep again, but she wanted to wait and watch Washington. She didn't have much time to observe him during the day when they were working. Alex mustered the strength to get to her feet and walk to Washington's desk, draping the coat over his shoulders and making for her desk again; she muttered a thank you, although she missed the warmth and comfort of it instantly.

They'd both fallen asleep working and Alex was the one who was sick the next morning when the noise of the other aides coming in woke her. She'd gone to her tent and skipped work that day, waking every so often to drink water and use the chamber pot and then going right back to sleep. Since her friends didn't need them at the time, Alex had swiped their blankets and curled up in a ball, praying for death to relieve her of a massive headache and the stuffiness. According to John, Washington had stopped by that evening and brought her a hot tea and another blanket from his bed to keep her warm. She didn't remember it, but she'd apparently downed half of the tea before she was right back to sleep. He was happy to see her the next morning when she'd come back to work, feeling far better than she had, even if she was still a little stuffy and nursing a headache...and then his sheepish apology for her getting sick because she'd returned his coat to him in the night.  
  
And then other people noticed. Not everyone ignored it. Lee had mumbled to her that she was the favorite, although in less kind terms. She nearly punched him for that. More because of what he said about Washington than her. They were lucky Burr and Knox were walking passed, or she really would have decked him. John probably would have helped too.  
  
But Washington's smiles, and the shoulder squeezes after long days when she was tired and rubbing her wrists. His odd kindnesses. The whole thing was all around strange to her, and she didn't know what to think.  
  
Otherwise, things were mostly okay.  
  
\--  
  
The winter grew colder and the days shorter. Washington and the Barron's aides, plus the Marquis, huddled together during the day and in the evening to keep warm while they worked. They were almost sitting on top of each other. Because of who knew her secret, Alex tried to stick with the Barron's boys and Lafayette. It worked out well enough and holy shit they were warm. She'd fallen asleep on them a time or two, not that they minded. Lafayette was more comfortable with it than the other two.  
  
The other generals grew used to her presence when they'd walk in to talk to Washington, and she was still there working. During the day, the others might be dismissed, but she was left alone to work. The trust felt nice.  
  
And everything was going well, she supposed.  
  
Until it wasn't.


	11. The Last One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a major loss in their nation.  
> Someone is there to help pick up the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor character death in this chapter. I don't describe it outside of, whoops they're gone.  
> Don't let the fluff deceive you; I meant it when I said this chapter would be sad.

George had been working late nights with Hamilton. He hated to see his men working while he wasn't; he didn't think it was a sign of good leadership if he quit before they did. But sometimes, he just couldn't keep up with him. George didn't know where the boy got his energy from. Hamilton was quickly becoming irreplaceable, and to top it off, he was likable. Sure, he stepped on toes sometimes because he lacked a brain-to-mouth filter, but otherwise, it was nearly impossible to hate him. Unless you were Burr or Lee. Those two seemed to butt heads with Hamilton frequently.  
  
When he knew Hamilton had been sitting for too long, George had taken to make him take a walk with him, saying that he needed someone to take notes while he worked on something. It was complete bullshit, and he had to come up with something to have Hamilton take notes ON, or Hamilton would call him out on his lies. The boy was dedicated to Washington, didn't think twice, and would follow with a small stack of blank paper to write on. Hey, whatever worked.  
  
On days like today, when he had received bad news after bad news, he mostly just wanted to vent to someone, and Hamilton was good for that. Despite how much he had to say, he knew when to listen. Hamilton wasn't perfect at it, but he did well enough when it counted.  
  
"--and then, to make matters worse, Adams isn't bending on the budget for ammunition. We won't have enough to get us through the war if he doesn't do something. I've tried to petition his advisor too in an effort to convince him, and it isn't working." George wasn't sure how long they'd been walking around the outside of camp, but if how thirsty he was, the color of Hamilton's cheeks, and Hamilton's coughs were any indication, it had been too long.  
  
Hamilton, reading his thoughts, grinned up at him. "I'm fine. Keep going. While you do that, I'll try and think of something to help with the ammunition."  
  
George hesitated, but after a moment of deliberation had continued his rant about finances, the stubbornness of the upper class, and more. He could see the gears turning in Hamilton's mind as the boy actively thought on how to help him fix the problems they faced. Even if he wasn't a high-ranking officer, it was nice to have an ear and a mind at work that he trusted. A creeping doubt liked to strike him when he was weak, however, and he sometimes wondered if Hamilton only did this because he was Hamilton's commanding officer. But after watching how the young man helped him with all of the boundless energy of a puppy or child, coupled with the excitement of one, and he quickly forgot the insecurities. It was obvious Hamilton wanted to be here and enjoyed working for him.  
  
And he hated himself for how much he preferred Hamilton's company to the other generals and men that worked for him. The Marquis' friendship was a godssend because the man was almost as much of a joy to be around. He should be associating himself with his equals, not those beneath him in status and rank. Maybe two or so levels below him would be fine, but not this much distance between their ranks. He'd see Hamilton smiling brightly as more letters were passed his way and Washington would decide that to hell with what anyone else thought. At least for a little while.  
  
\--  
  
The Barron set up a tent and party for the officers and their aides as a way to cheer them up through this bleak winter weather. There was a "no pants" rule, and so everyone shed their trousers and filed in, dressed up to the best of their ability, and George was beginning to suspect that he was a goner when he saw how nicely Hamilton cleaned up. His hair was pulled back--and in need of a cut--and his uniform was pressed and perfect, although the shirt was too big for him. The boy looked nervous and on edge, though, but many of them seemed that way. Not wearing pants in front of a crowd could do that to a person. It was when he caught himself staring at Hamilton's calves that he realized that he was, in fact, staring at one of his lower ranking officers.  
  
And as was his luck, the Barron noticed and playfully elbowed him, teasing him about something, and George had to look to one of the Barron's aides to translate.  
  
The smaller of the two spoke first, "He says that Captain Hamilton is a catch and to...not be ashamed of looking. Many will." And didn't that have a small spark of jealousy spread through him at the thought of other soldiers looking at Hamilton?  
  
He took a sip of his drink and prayed that the Barron would let it go. George was not so lucky.  
  
"He also says that you're looked at too." But by whom? Before he had a chance to ask, the Barron had left them to get the small group of musicians he'd pulled out of his hat or something to start playing a livelier tune. The youngest of the officers were immediately choosing partners and started trying to dance. Two of his aides and the Marquis were trying to dance at once, and George was amazed that Hamilton and Laurens didn't fall over when they tried to dodge the Marquis' steps. The three were laughing, as were the other officers who had tried to dance around them. George found himself smiling slightly as he watched everyone, only to catch the Barron's eye again from across the tent.  
  
To his horror, the man made his way to him and dragged him out to dance as his partner. His eyes flicked to where he knew his father was, along with the other senior officers, and hoped that he wouldn't get some sort of disproving look from him. It was the opposite; his father seemed amused by the spectacle. Well, he wouldn't be rescued from him or the others. The Barron sang along with the music, out of tune, mind you, and George struggled to focus on the beat to match his steps. Yes, he knew he looked like a fool out here, and he hated it.  
  
What should have been his saving grace, wound up being worse than the Barron. The Marquis came first and stole him away, and George knew that his feet would never be the same after that. Next was one of the Barron's aides, who was too close for comfort and looking as if he wanted to devour him. The last was Hamilton, who seemed to be a little buzzed by this point and couldn't stop laughing and smiling as he dragged the general away from his latest partner. Yes, the gods hated him, and George was contemplating on hating them right back for this. With Hamilton as close as he was, the general could smell the soap he'd used in his hair, and the fragrance was the same as the Marquis; they must have shared for the occasion, as it wasn't the usual light scent that George got from him. The fact that he knew what Hamilton usually smelt like was another indication of how gone he was for the captain. And he was soft. George marveled at how soft Hamilton's hands were, save the callous on his left hand from all of the writing he did.  
  
The Barron caught his eye, giving him a sly smirk before he turned his attention to Lafayette, who he seemed to be wooing, or trying to. The jury was out on how that would turn out, but George didn't get to think on it long before Hamilton had his attention again when he'd stumbled trying to keep up with George's longer strides. The flush of embarrassment wasn't adorable. It wasn't.  
  
Their eyes met, and George had to hold back a snort of laughter. His pathetic efforts to mask his amusement must have failed, because Hamilton was giggling at his own mistake a moment later.  
  
George paused. "Here, stand on my feet." He watched as the captain hesitated and then did as he was told. George tried to shorten his strides to keep from upsetting Hamilton's balance. It was nice.  
  
They were both making quiet jokes about how everyone was dressed or how they acted when tipsy, laughing when one of them hit the nail on the head when describing one of the officers. Sadly, both were called away after several songs had passed with them as partners; their attentions were desired by others, and neither could refuse. It was only fair. They reluctantly parted; George noted Hamilton's look of disappointment.  
  
He didn't feel another spark of jealousy when he saw the Marquis carrying a sleeping Hamilton to their tent at the end of the party.  
  
\--  
  
Things fell apart several weeks later. They'd finally packed up and started migrating southward. Spring was coming, but it was still bitterly cold at night, and many were walking huddled together rather than putting space between them. George, Burr, Lee, Knox, the Barron and his company, and George's aides were not quite so fortunate, as they were all on horses, leading the large battalion. The Marquis and Hamilton had taken to sharing a horse to keep warm and letting Hamilton's be led by Lafayette's. The other aides followed suit and some of the quiet grumbles about the cold finally ceased. They could keep each other warm. However, this did nothing to help the generals and senior officers.  
  
George looked back at his company and noted how Laurens and one of the other aides had fallen asleep on whomever they were sharing a mount with. At least they were comfortable for the moment. Things would only get worse from here on out, and George began to cynically predict who would survive their first battle. He shouldn't think so negatively, but he couldn't help it as he thought on strategies to keep them alive during a firefight. He knew which of his senior officers were the most likely to die if they ventured too far forward with the other troups; he knew which ones would be overly cautious, and who wouldn't back down from a fight and fight alongside those beneath them. George planned to keep all of his aides out of the fight for as long as possible. He needed them to keep what remained of their forces alive, even if most of them didn't agree with it.  
  
\--  
  
They'd settled into their new camp, a few miles away from a river. Too close would be obvious if the British were looking for them if they camped by the water. The four parties of forces had split off two days before, their plan of defense and attack set and ready to go. George and his crew would meet up with his father's in a week. It was a good plan, to an extent. George didn't like the thought of splitting into so many groups of soldiers, believing it made everyone vulnerable to attack.  
  
Everyone had gone back to their duties, finishing what remained of their training, continuing to try and convince the upper class to continue to fund them, and more. The Barron had done well with George's men. They were proper soldiers now. His aide Hamilton and one of his bunkmates were part of a team that would be set aside for more secretive missions. George didn't like the thought of his right-hand man going into enemy territory for this or that job. He wanted him here where he'd be safer. No. Not wanted. Needed. He needed him here because he was useful. George couldn't get the fondness for him out of his head to think, and it was clouding his judgment. That couldn't happen.  
  
At the end of the week, they got a letter from his father, saying to delay their departure for another week. The next day, another messenger came stumbling into camp in the middle of the night. It was just George and Hamilton in his tent, still working, when the guards posted outside started shouting urgently for help and the medics. Hamilton and George looked at one another; George saw a flash of fear in his aide's eyes, and he wondered if he was mirroring it. Then, they were both on their feet, grabbing their guns and sabers, and running to the flap to see what was going on.  
  
The messenger had crumpled outside the tent, and he looked like hell. Bloodied, bruised, gasping for breath and hardly coherent. The guards were at his side, already trying to check him over as two medics came running from their tents to help. It took a moment for George to recognize who the messenger was; one of his father's aides, Matthew something, not a messenger. His heart was pounding as thoughts of the worst flooded his mind.  
  
He crouched next to him and the medics, helping in what ways he could to stabilize him, all the while he was trying to speak to them about something.  
  
The general was dead. The whole faction of the military was dead. He didn't think anyone was left alive and those who were, were taken as prisoners.  
  
George froze. Behind him, he could hear Hamilton's gasp and in front of him, the medics and guards paused. The military's top general was dead. It seemed like there was nothing else around him. The noise was a chorus of unintelligible susurrus, and George couldn't see much as his world collapsed around him and zeroed in on the aide beneath him. Dead. Gone. His last family member. It was just him in the Washington family. Alone. He would be alone with no one to share his accomplishments with that would understand, actually understand, the significance of it all. His source of wisdom and love, snuffed out.  
  
He felt a hand at his elbow, tugging him to his feet and guiding him away from the mayhem. George blindly followed them; he was in shock. They ended up in his personal tent, and they had him sit down on his bed and left him. The body came back into view a few moments later with an extra blanket that they draped over his shoulders and something warm was pressed into his hands.  
  
"Focus on this. Focus on the heat, George." He did. Then, "Take a few sips, but be careful. It's hot." He followed that order too. The warmth was calming, although he was still struggling to process what was going on around him.  
  
The person sunk to their knees in front of him and gently held his face in their hands. "Focus on me, George. C'mon. Come back to me, George."  
  
His eyes started focusing on who was in front of him, guiding him back to reality. Hamilton. Hamilton was there. He could feel his hands trembling slightly against his cheeks, saw how distraught and worried the boy was, and reveled in the comfort that Hamilton was trying to offer him.  
  
He smiled softly at George. "There you are." He had George take a few more sips of the tea and then took the mug away to set it aside on the nightstand. Hamilton immediately rose to his feet long enough to sit beside George and attempt to wrap an arm around his shoulders. That's what dragged him out of the shock enough for him to lean over and start crying on Hamilton's shoulder. Hamilton didn't try to quiet him, didn't tell him it would be okay, but encouraged George to let it out. George was glad for that; being told "it's alright; it'll be okay" would have irritated him.  
  
He knew well enough to keep it down so that his men wouldn't hear him; they couldn't hear their commander sobbing over the loss of one man, although they wouldn't have faulted him for it. To lose a loved one is never easy.  
  
He fell asleep that way, and Hamilton carefully tucked him in. He didn't leave. Instead, the boy debated on whether he should sleep on the floor or beside George; that would be too risky, although George didn't know it, and so he decided to grab one of the spare blankets and tuck himself in beside the bed in case George needed anything. One shouldn't be alone too much after an episode like that.  
  
George found him like that in the night, curled up and leaning against the bed with his head by the general's arm. He couldn't resist carefully pushing a lock of hair away from the boy's face. When he was awake enough, he frowned at how Hamilton was basically sleeping on the floor. Gently, so as not to wake him, George scooped him up and tucked him into his bed before taking Hamilton's place on the floor. Just because he was suffering from his loss, didn't mean he had to let his men suffer. This wasn't the first time he'd seen Hamilton actually stop everything and be still. It was still eery, even the second time.  
  
He drifted off again.  
  
\--  
  
Everything was back to business in the morning. People kept offering their condolences. He didn't want their condolences, thank you very much. There was a war going on, and now he was the leader of the country's military. The general didn't have time for that nonsense, didn't have time to mourn his loss; there was work to be done.  
  
Hamilton was acting strangely around him, and George had an idea of why. He had washed, dressed, and left to start working before Hamilton woke for the day, leaving Hamilton alone in his bed. So yes, things were awkward, but he didn't have the time to dwell on it.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
George looked up from his work, noting that it was late into the night and that, as always, Hamilton was the last one here.  
  
"Anything I can do for you?" For you, not the war, was silently added.  
  
He didn't have time for this. It had been a few days now, and George had done what he had to; he kept everything professional between them. There was enough distance at the moment that he pretended not to hear Burr lecturing him about a loose button earlier and doling out a punishment for looking so slovenly dressed. Usually, he would come to any of his aide's side for something so trivial, not just Hamilton. But he knew that Burr and Hamilton knew that he could hear them. George could practically hear the smug smirk spread over Burr's face when George did nothing, and feel the sense of rejection radiating off of Hamilton. It didn't feel good.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
George forced himself out of his thoughts again and met Hamilton's eyes. "I'm fine, Hamilton. Turn in for the night."  
  
"But, sir, I--"  
  
"Turn in, Hamilton. That's an order." The look on Hamilton's face was painful to witness, and George's resolve almost broke. He did need help. He needed one of their walks to clear his head, but he couldn't; the man didn't have time for that anymore, not with the enemy at their doorstep.  
  
Hamilton looked as if he might argue with him, but closed his mouth, mumbled a 'sir', and left for the night.  
  
The silence wasn't deafening. It wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> George being a stubborn butt and trying to be strong on his own.  
> And hurting Alex's feelings. There's that.


	12. Fear Makes People Do Strange Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex goes missing.  
> George is unhappy.  
> Lots of heated discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dedicating this chapter to emerald2020 and breakthisspell626. I'm going to tear you up a little more and then make it better again. It'll be worth it, promise.

He knew this would happen. He knew that something could go wrong and it did. Hamilton was dead or captured, one. Everyone hoped dead. Dead would be better than captured and tortured. Was it wrong of him to hope that, if he didn't escape, that Hamilton was dead? George would ask Hamilton that question or one like it during their walks, but it was unlikely that it would ever happen now. Dammit. He was losing two people he cared for in the span of two weeks. He didn't think he could take another loss and now here he was...  
  
What happened was this:  
  
Hamilton, Mulligan, and several other men were given the task of going up the river to lead a few raids. They needed supplies, and they needed to get to them before the British did.  
  
The trip went well enough. They had to walk there and back as they couldn't spare the mounts if something went wrong and they lost them. Bad for escaping, good for the army. They'd steal horses during the raids.  
  
When they got to a certain point, they had to split up into pairs. Hamilton was selected to go solo. The team—and George—wish that it hadn't happened that way; Hamilton should have gone with one of the five groups. Things can go right, but it takes a little time to get there. But things can go very wrong at the drop of a hat.  
  
No one would know this until later, but Hamilton had been seen. The young man had tried to escape by normal means, but he wasn't running quickly enough. He wound up using his lantern to set the building on fire as a distraction for him to get away. The quickest way out was the river and going downstream. That was the direction of camp anyway.  
  
When he got to the water, he prayed he wouldn't drown or worse and hopped into the water to let it carry him away.  
  
It wasn't until that night, just after everyone stopped searching for the night, that he turned up. Despite being sopping wet and shivering, he just waltzed into camp like he owned the place and made for the small home George and the aides were staying. The guards had startled at seeing the boy strolling between the tents and shacks towards them and feared that he was a spirit.  
  
And the little shit had the audacity to walk in and make for George's desk and ask him for another assignment. The aides had been shocked silent until Laurens started laughing at the absurdity of it and relief and jumped up to hug his friend. He'd started fussing over him immediately because he was still wet and shivering and it was still freezing out.  
  
George was furious.  
  
How dare he do this. How dare he walk in like people weren't worried sick for him. How dare he leave George silently coming out of his skin with worry and half hoping that Hamilton died because it would be better than being a prisoner of war.  
  
"Everyone out." The room went silent, and all of his staff looked at him quizzically. Livid was a good way of putting it when describing his presence. "Out. Hamilton, stay."  
  
"Sir, Alex is going to get sick like this. At least let him change and warm up so that—"  
  
"Silence, Laurens! It's an order. Everyone get out and be here first thing in the morning." They all scrambled to leave, although Laurens was reluctant until Hamilton shooed him away. "And tell the guards they're done for the night. We're to be left alone."  
  
Only when George was sure that they were alone did he start chewing him out. His voice was even, cold. "What the hell is this, Hamilton? You somehow survive that disastrous mission only just to act as if nothing happened? And you're dumb enough to come here rather than change and see a medic first? What the hell? Why in the hell are you so—" George huffed and started pacing, continuing to rant about how Hamilton could have died, or worse, could have been captured and then where would they be? What about everything Hamilton knew? He was full of information that could be used against them. And where the hell were the supplies he was supposed to secure?  
  
"I burned them, sir." That started another rant, but Hamilton interrupted him partway through. "Sir, it was the only way for me to escape. I had to slow them down long enough that they'd lose me in the dark and couldn't catch up. The supplies were lost the moment they caught me. At least they don't have them too."  
  
They were glaring at each other. George was furious because he had been terrified for his aide (friend?), and Hamilton was pissed because George was yelling at him over the wrong thing. Neither blinked. George was reminded that Hamilton was still wet and cold when a particularly harsh shiver wracked his body and was quickly followed by a coughing fit. Shit.  
  
"Follow me," Hamilton said nothing but did as he was told. When they got to George's rooms, the young general went through his clothes and pulled out something dry for Hamilton to change into.  
  
"Sir, I can go to my room and change into my own clothes. You don't—"  
  
"My clothes are better made and warmer. Put them on." He held them out to the boy, who took them and eyed him warily.  
  
"Fine. But turn around. I'm not changing with you watching me."  
  
George rolled his eyes and sat on his bed, back to Hamilton. He didn't understand why the guy was so modest about it all. They had the same stuff, so it didn't matter to him. He didn't know that Hamilton was silently panicking over her damp wrappings; the dry ones were in her room. She didn't know what the hell she was going to do to hide them other than to leave it on. But then she'd keep something cold and wet against her skin, and that wouldn't be comfortable. At least it would hold her until she could get to her and Lafayette's room.  
  
After another coughing fit, George heard, "I'm done."  
  
George turned around and had to suppress a shiver at the sight before him. Holy shit this was a bad idea. Out of his room. He needed to get Hamilton out of his room because this could only turn sour for both of them. Hamilton didn't get the unspoken message and plopped down onto the bed next to him. The next thing he knew, arms were wrapped around him in a tight hug.  
  
"I'm sorry for worrying you," he mumbled. Dammit, Hamilton could read him like a book at the worst of times but was also clueless at the same time.  
  
That didn't stop him from wrapping his arms around Hamilton to return the embrace. He'd been so scared for him. It wasn't right.  
  
"Please don't scare me like that again." It was horrible that George felt this way about one of his officers. Terrible. It could only end badly. Which is exactly why he melted when Hamilton sagged into his arms, relaxed and comforted.  
  
"'m tired. Thank you, sir. I'll head for bed and return these tomorrow morning." Hamilton pulled away from him and stood, but George caught his hand to stop him.  
  
"Please stay?" They let it hang in the air between them, and Hamilton looked like a startled deer. After a moment, however, he said he'd be back in a few and left anyway, still coughing. George swore quietly to himself. Shit. Hamilton probably thought it was an order or something.  
  
Hamilton returned a few minutes later, still shivering a little from the cold, and still wary of the situation. George had changed while he waited on Hamilton to return and started a fire to warm the room up. Gods above, the firelight was beautiful dancing over Hamilton's skin and features.  
  
But he still looked unsure.  
  
"You can say no, Hamilton. I don't want you to think it's an order or—"  
  
"N-no...No, it's fine, I think." George noted the blanket Hamilton had brought with him and watched as he wrapped himself in it before crawling under George's blankets. A barrier perhaps? It was odd. Whatever, the extra blanket would warm him up faster. He waited until Hamilton was settled before joining him under the remaining blankets.  
  
Gods help him; no one should be this beautiful. The eye contact didn't drop as they tried to read the other's thoughts. George knew his expression was open, was too fond to be appropriate. Meanwhile, Hamilton's was a mix of guarded, tired, and kind. Damn, he wanted to kiss him so much it hurt. Turn away. Turn away. Stop staring at his mouth. Shit, they were close. George felt himself panicking at their reactions. It was so inappropriate; George had implemented a rule that soldiers could not "frolic" with anyone more than two ranks below them. He would be breaking his own rules.  
  
"Thank you for being my friend, Alexander." Friend. Keep it, friends.  
  
Hamilton didn't seem to get the hint if how he was looking at George was any indication. "Thank you too, sir."  
  
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Turn away.  
  
"Sleep well, Ha--"  
  
Hamilton's lips were soft against his, a little unsure of himself and George's reaction, but still searching. George shuddered and wrapped an arm around Hamilton's waist to draw him closer. No, not Hamilton. Alexander. He was Alexander after this life-changing event. He took over and tried to guide Alexander through the kiss, and the younger's high whimper and gasp were what reminded him of what had happened. George pulled away, and carded a hand through Alexander's curls, grinning at the pout the younger was sporting.  
  
"You've been through a great deal. Sleep, Alexander and we'll talk more later." There was no way in hell that Alexander shivered at the use of his name.  
  
Meanwhile, it took everything she had not to tell him her real name. She was falling for someone unobtainable and lying to them...that wasn't a good way to start a relationship.  
  
But she was exhausted from nearly dying and sleep soon erased her worries as she drifted off.  
  
George was still in awe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that what happens at the end doesn't feel rushed?


	13. Here We Go Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex forms a clique  
> Hercules plays the Big Brother Card

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how I feel about this chapter? Like, I like it bc it needed to be done but...?

Alex woke in the morning feeling like she'd been run over by the calvary. Her head was dully throbbing, her nose was stopped up, and she couldn't stop shivering. She forced herself to sneak out of Washington's bed before he woke and scurried to her room and forgetting to not slam the door behind her. Oh, she stood up too quickly. Alex leaned against the door and slid down to the floor, groaning quietly and holding her head. The blankets were still wrapped around her, providing some warmth, but she still felt cold.  
  
Lafayette startled awake when the door shut with a snap, looking around blearily in the dimly lit room. "Alex?" When he recognized her, he was on his feet in an instant. "Alex! Where were you? You came back last night, but then you left again."  
  
"Washington asked me to stay with him," she croaked. "I wanted to anyway, so I stayed."  
  
Lafayette looked ready to throttle their commander, but he put it aside in favor of helping Alex up and putting her to bed. "I'll fetch some medicine from the doctor and try to keep everyone away."  
  
"Laf, I'm fine. Just need to warm up a little, and then I'll be right as rain." She started to sit up, but Lafayette barely tapped her with his index, and she collapsed onto her back again. "Okay, maybe a nap will be fine."  
  
"You're going to need more than a nap. What in the hell was he thinking? Letting you just go to bed without being seen to. I ought to strangle him myself. And Alex, what if he found out? You could be thrown into prison for this." Washington was an honorable man, but even he wouldn't stand for this, or so Lafayette thought. He was focused on the worst of what could happen, and Washington followed the rules to a T; Alex would be gone by the end of the day, sick or not. "And what if he'd taken advantage of you? Wait, did he? I'll kill him."  
  
"It's my fault too Laf. I wanted to stay." She reached out and grabbed his hand, "I like him, Laf. A-and I don't know what to do because you're right, I shouldn't have stayed there."  
  
He didn't seem convinced, but he could only nod in acceptance and dismiss it, for now, squeeze her hand, and then promise to be back in a few minutes; they could talk about this when she felt better. Lafayette was true to his word and came back about thirty minutes later with medicine and instructions on how to treat her.  
  
Lafayette wanted to stay with her, but couldn't, so he took turns with Laurens and Mulligan. Lafayette and Alex were worried that one of them would figure it out, but there was nothing to be done about it for now. Lafayette simply couldn't stay, and they couldn't trust the doctors to not say something to Washington. At least, if it were one of their friends, they could trust them to not blab to someone.  
  
This is why Alex found herself having to explain it to Mulligan and Laurens when one came to trade shifts with the other. Mulligan had caught sight of one of her wraps and asked her about it. There was little she could do but admit it, but she requested that they wait until Laurens came back in an hour.  
  
That had been fun.  
  
She'd asked Mulligan to retrieve Lafayette for her to talk to the three of them. Alex didn't have much of a voice, and Lafayette had to tell parts of her story when she couldn't get the words out because of a coughing fit. Then, like the big brother he tried to be, he threatened their friends. Tell anyone, and he'd string them up.  
  
It wasn't needed. Mulligan held out a fist for Alex to bump with hers. "Hey, no judgment from me. You're keeping up just fine. Props."  
  
Laurens hadn't said anything since they started the conversation, and it made Alex nervous. "John?"  
  
"You know that the three of us will fight to the death to protect you, man or woman, right?"  
  
Alex nodded, "I'd do the same for you all."  
  
That wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he accepted it for the moment and strode to her bedside, running a hand over her forehead. "Just, look, if someone even looks at you the wrong way, I'm going to fight them."  
  
That had her snorting in laughter, which turned into coughs. "I'm not a damsel in distress. I've made it this far, haven't I? Fights or no."  
  
He still didn't agree.  
  
"We need to be careful around Burr. He has it out for you anyway, and he'd spin this story in any way he could to get the worst punishment out of it against you." Mulligan had a point. Burr was a worse threat to her secret than Washington was.  
  
They talked for a while longer before Lafayette and Mulligan had to go, leaving Alex with Laurens.  
  
\--  
  
The pair chatted for a while or tried to, as Alex was tired and fell asleep halfway through one of Laurens' stories about him and his siblings.  
  
Washington dropped in later that evening to check on her. He was worried, having heard it through the grapevine about Alex being sick rather than her telling him before she left. Mulligan was not happy to see him when he answered the knock at the door; this was a bad idea, but he was the best at keeping secrets of them all, and so he felt slightly confident about hiding this issue.  
  
"I just wanted to make sure Hamilton was doing well. Is there anything I can do?"  
  
Mulligan stepped out into the hallway and quietly closed the door behind him. "Not right now sir, but thank you. I am sure that he will be happy to hear that you visited, although he won't be pleased that he missed you." Before Washington could say something else, Mulligan interrupted him. "Also, my friends and I are very cross with you, sir. Forgive me, but not taking him to the medical tent to stay the night was unwise. I understand you two care for one another deeply, but you're our general and Alex is only an aide. Take care not to ruin what reputation he has. You can easily fix yours and buy allegiance again, but not him. And another thing, don't you dare lead him on. General or not, the four of us have become like family and like any brothers, we _will_ defend our own."  
  
Washington seemed a little surprised at the forwardness of Mulligan's demands, but when he got over his shock, he nodded. "I will tread carefully. Don't worry."  
  
Mulligan shook his head, "I don't think you understand, sir. Treading carefully won't cut it. Either you devote complete loyalty to him, or don't form a relationship with him at all, because what happens when this war is over, and we all go home?" They stood in silence, and Mulligan gave Washington a moment to let it sink in; they couldn't "tread carefully" or whatever else. Either Washington would take Alex with him and continue their relationship, or they would part ways when Alex was no longer needed or wanted when Washington didn't need an oasis in a bloody war.  
  
"I understand, Mr. Mulligan." There was a stare down, and then Washington bid him good night before heading to his quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to seem like an attention-whore, but kudos and comments keep me going on these longer fics.


	14. When Things Go From Bad to Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan.

George didn't sleep well that night. He was worried for Alexander's health and couldn't get what Mulligan said to him out of his head, which might be for the best. He needed to keep all of that in mind when he was around Alexander. And despite a lower rank threatening him, George didn't mind the disrespect too much. In all honesty, it was a needed wake-up call to remember where they were and who everyone was both in and outside of the war.

He couldn't get Alexander's eyes and smile out of his mind, couldn't rid himself of the phantom caress of Alexander's lips. For such a brief encounter, it had left a strong impression on George. He wondered if Alexander was having the same problem; well, the man was sick, so he was likely too out of it to think about it. What he'd done was reckless, but he was so worried and then relieved, elated to see that Alexander wasn't gone—even if it didn't show immediately after Alexander walked back into the offices.

So what was he going to do?

He really liked having Alexander around. The young man was energetic, hard working, brilliant, charming, strong-willed, and probably the most beautiful human being to have ever walked the Earth. Alexander was a balm when George was exhausted mentally and emotionally from the chaos around them. When Alexander was just sitting with him, either for them to enjoy the quiet or for George to sort out his thoughts out loud, George would swear that time slowed for them, and everyone else was rushing around. The noise was muted, and they only had ears for each other.

Alexander had told him about the time that he convinced half of the kids in his town that gnats were venomous and burrowed under your skin to lay their eggs. Needless to say, the kids didn't want to go outside for a long time after that. It had George smiling, which made Alexander happy.

It was enough.

And now it wasn't.

Last night had been a turning point for them, a massive decision that would affect them for years to come, if they lived that long. Alexander could have returned to his quarters. George could have ordered him to. George could have had Alexander wear his own things. Alexander could have grabbed his own night clothes. Alexander could have refrained from kissing George. George could have refrained from kissing Alexander. They were both at fault for whatever happened from today onwards.

But what did he want long term?

The idea of something between them surviving the war was a nice thought, one that George would fantasize about in the coming days about how domestic it could be. Alexander would master the game of the upper society without a hitch, and they would help the other stay sane during whatever event they were invited to. Alexander's bright grin when he discovered something about a person and then silently promise to tell George about it when the guest left them. They'd done it before several times.

Alexander was a never ending source of joy. He could be frustrating sometimes, but that was everyone.

He finally decided that he'd talk to Alexander about it when the boy felt better.

For now, George let himself dream of what could be.

\--

It was a few days before Alex was well enough to leave the house. Three days in and she was driving Lafayette up a wall, restless. Laurens was more sympathetic, bringing her books to read or sneaking in letters for her to write up. Lafayette caught him, and that source of amusement was gone. Mulligan put something together to bind herself that wouldn't be as awkward to put on and probably safer, knowing how Mulligan seemed to be five steps ahead of everyone. Alex hugged him in thanks, relieved that she had something newer and better made to wear.

The hard part came when Washington stopped by on the fourth day to check on her. It was just her and Mulligan, Alex reading and Mulligan working on—she didn't know what he was working on, but he was sewing. There was a hesitant knock on the door, and after exchanging glances, Alex called them in.

Washington stepped in, almost curious with a hint of nervousness. "Good afternoon gentleman. I wanted to see how Mr. Hamilton was doing." He had kept his eyes on Mulligan the whole time as if seeking his permission to be here first, but when he addressed Alex, he turned his attention to her. "Are you well?"

"No. I'm bored out of my mind, and Laf wouldn't let Laurens sneak letters to me to work on anymore." She most certainly didn't pout at the unfairness of it all. "Other than that, I suppose I'm well. I'm not dying so, I guess that's a good sign."

Mulligan snorted next to her, "Yes, not dying is preferable."

There was a beat of silence, filled with a hint of tension as Washington returned his attention briefly to Mulligan. "Would you mind if Mr. Hamilton and I talked privately?"

Mulligan narrowed his eyes, searching for something before looking to Alex, who nodded. She didn't mind; Alex knew this conversation was going to happen eventually so she may as well get it over with.

"I'll be downstairs, checking on Lafayette. The man is always finding trouble." Standing, he left his work on Lafayette's bed and stepped out, but not before gripping Washington's shoulder as he walked passed him; Alex didn't know that Mulligan had clenched his hand on the general's shoulder in warning.

After the door had been shut, the general stood there awkwardly, taking the time to figure out how to approach this. Alex took pity on him and gestured for him to sit at the foot of her bed or on Lafayette's bed if he wished. George chose the former and sat carefully by her feet.

"Are you truly feeling better or are you putting on a front?"

"Ugh, you're almost as bad as Laf. I'm fine, just a bit sniffly at this point. I hate being confined to bed. I'm not meant to stay still." She shifted to pull her knees to her chest, blanket still covering them, to keep her chest hidden; Alex couldn't bind herself as sick as she was.

George cracked a smile and folded his hands on his lap, "Well it's certainly dull without you there—and the aides can't seem to keep up with you out of commission. You're missed."

"Missed because of how much work I get done or because they actually like having me around?" They were like a small family, but that didn't mean that they didn't get on one another's nerves now and then.

"Both."

Alex grinned and rested her chin on her knees, "And you?"

"I miss you more than you can imagine. You're a bright spot in my day, so it is taxing to not have my excitable right hand around. It's too quiet without you around, and our conversations during our afternoon walks are a little one-sided at the moment." They both laughed at that.

"I'm sorry imaginary me isn't treating you well."

"Eh, maybe he'll improve."

The silence didn't hold the same tension as before; it was relaxed and peaceful, something they both sorely needed. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, George spoke up again.

"There was another reason I came to talk to you." Alex tensed, mind jumping to the worst conclusions, although Mulligan would have figured it out before he left if it was something bad. She motioned for him to continue.

"This is about the other night." When Alex tensed, he was quick to shake his head. "No, nothing bad, but I wanted to know where you want this to go. Please don't feel pressured to continue this with me. The last thing I want is to force you into it, thinking you don't have a choice."

"Ha, like you could make me do something I don't want to." Except for when it came to apologizing to Burr or something. She didn't want to at all, but there wasn't a choice where it concerned her superiors.

"This is true. Stubborn as the day is long, aren't you?" He paused. "Have you thought about it?"

Alex sighed heavily, "A lot, actually. I've had a couple of days to review what happened and figure out what I wanted."  
  
"And?"  
  
She said nothing for a time, wondering how to proceed. Should she just get it off her chest and risk being imprisoned or something, or should she go into the relationship in a lie, or should she just lie and say that she didn't want it. But how well would that go? They'd be miserable for the former AND the latter. They could be happy with the second option, but what about the day he found out? He'd find out eventually.  
  
"I want it," she started slowly, not meeting his gaze as she gestured between them, "this, I mean. I do want it, and I want it to go somewhere, whether it's for a few days when something happens, or until our last day on earth."  
  
She could hear the unease in his voice when he asked, "But?"  
  
How to respond to that?  
  
"There are a few things you don't know about me, and I'm worried about the consequences of you finding out, whether because I tell you or because down the road, you figure it out on your own." Here, Alex paused, and George didn't let her continue, interrupting.  
  
"You know I wouldn't judge or hate you for whatever it is, right? I would never ha--"  
  
"But that's just it!" He could never know. "Your sense of honor and following the law...I'd be kicked out or banished or worse." Alex swallowed a lump in her throat, clenching her hands on the blankets covering her legs. Where was Mulligan? She desperately needed him. Now. She closed her eyes, silently admitting to herself that it wouldn't work between them. "Me never telling you is impossible; you could find out on your own, and that wouldn't be a pleasant conversation. We can't have a relationship built on a lie and secrets, George."  
  
George hesitantly reached out and covered one of her hands with his own. "Alexander--" He noted the way she flinched when he said her name. "Alex, I won't hate you for whatever it is, and I won't have you thrown into prison or something over it."  
  
Maybe it WAS okay to tell him, but she wanted to talk to her friends about it first. "George, I--"  
  
An alarming bellow of horns startled them and interrupted Alex. They jumped slightly at the urgent sound, reflexively squeezing one another's hands. The Brittish. They had just randomly showed up. How had their scouts not seen this coming? George leaped to his feet, Alex scrambling to her own to start throwing on layers and praying George didn't see anything. Mulligan burst into the room, breathless and looking panicked.  
  
"Sirs, they're here. They've already fired on the western encampment."  
  
"Shit." George turned and kissed Alex quickly, "Be safe and don't take risks. We'll talk when this is over." With that, he turned and ran out of the room. He had an army to lead; George was gone, for now, replaced by General Washington.  
  
Be safe too, Alex thought to herself. She shook her head and scrambled to throw on the rest of her clothes, slipping the band on beneath her shirts. Shoes were the last thing to put on, and Mulligan stopped her at the door.  
  
"Alex, you're still sick. You can't go out there and--"  
  
"Hercules, do not try and stop me. I will not stay behind, defenseless, while my friends and the love of my life fight. Now get out of my way or get me a gun and get out there to fight those bastards." Mulligan reluctantly stepped out of her way and followed her out the door and down the stairs, heading outside at a sprint to gather their weapons and preparing to send those assholes out of their kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading you beautiful creatures!


	15. In Sickness and in Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter is okay and that you like it????

War is bloody.  
  
Alex had seen and been in a few small skirmishes, but nothing like this. She hadn't been exposed to this level of brutality and terror; the smell of blood and the sound of screams of pain and battle cries filled the air, making her gag and causing her heart to race. It seemed to take forever, and yet it was going so quickly that Alex's mind couldn't seem to wrap around anything fast enough to process what was happening. Maybe that was for the best; it kept her from giving in to the terror that clawed at her mind and body.  
  
Washington didn't let his aides go too far into the fight, needing them just in case, but Alex was unhappy about it and being in the middle of the fight was unavoidable. She was here to fight, just like everyone else; she wondered if he did this more to keep her safe than anything else. However, he'd taken on a cold demeanor, needing to inspire the men to be brave in the face of danger while also closing himself off to any trauma. She didn't have the time to let it sting, not with someone shooting at her or trying to run her through with their saber.  
  
It was chaos, bodies everywhere that were running at one another, aiming to kill, or limp forms on the ground that she had to avoid tripping over. She always kept her friends in the corner of her eyes, trying to watch their backs while watching her own. It was distracting, but she made it work for the most part. Mostly. She'd already had a sword graze her arm and a horse that nearly collapsed on her. That, coupled with her still recovering, slowed her down significantly.  
  
There was a blur of red to her right, and she whirled around to run them through before they got to her. Alex dodged someone else's shot at her, ducked, and then managed to jab through their leg, crippling them.  
  
Alex caught a glimpse of Washington, fighting off two other men with a third closing in on him. She scrambled to her feet from when she'd ducked under someone's blow and darted forward, shooting the guy in the head before he reached Washington. The general caught sight of her but didn't have a chance to focus before he was back to taking out the two men in front of him. Back to back, they kept off who they could, helping their neighbors when they had a moment to spare, but Alex was drained. No amount of adrenaline could keep her going forever; her stamina would dissipate eventually.  
  
They separated for a moment when Alex had to push forward to get to the next one. By the time she turned around, Washington was back to fighting another group with another officer at his side to help. They didn't see an enemy colonel charging at them from behind, gun raised.  
  
"No!" Her energy came back, and she ran forward, pushing Washington out of the way to keep him out of the line of fire. There was a moment where everything around them fell silent, the chaos around them slowed, and the only thing she could sense was the feel of wool on Washington's coat and the force she'd put into throwing herself into him to knock him out of the way. There was a brief moment of them holding onto each other, the sound of crack that shook her to her core.  
  
Or maybe that was the bullet that lodged into her side.  
  
All at once, there was a chorus of gunfire and shouts of the men around her. And a blinding pain.  
  
They'd landed in a heap on the muddy and blood-covered ground, Washington holding onto her to keep them from crashing into anything. Their weapons had clattered to the ground beside them with a clack. Above them, their comrades continued the fight, with the officer Washington had been fighting beside taking out the man that had shot Alex.  
  
She didn't mean to whimper, but the searing pain forced the noise out of her and Alex started to curl up tightly with a hand pressed to her side.  
  
"Alex," the man beneath her breathed. "Shit."  
  
Washington rolled them over to put her on her back, crouching over her to press a hand to the wound. After a moment, he gave up and pulled her into his arms, standing and hurrying to the backline. He dodged soldiers here and there, praying he won't be shot or fall. It took far too long in his opinion, but he eventually got her to a medic.  
  
Alex could see on his face that he wanted desperately to stay with her, but he had men to lead. Rather than staying, he pressed a soft kiss to her palm, giving her a worried look before whispering an "I love you." She didn't get to say anything as the medics carried her off to be seen by Washington's physician. They didn't get her to the tent before she was already out cold.  
  
\--  
  
The battle raged on for what must have been hours until they'd managed to fight them all off. Despite their numbers, the British were pushed back enough to force a retreat. George would need more men, and hoped beyond hope that the Marquis and Baron would be able to bring in enough to fill in the gaps in his ranks. He did what he could to help get the wounded to the medics, ignoring his exhaustion to ensure everyone who had a chance to make it did.  
  
Only when Burr approached him, frowning but still holding an air of smugness, did he finally get to retire for a moment. "Sir, you need to go to your physician. There's...something you need to see."  
  
Shit. Please let Alexander be okay.  
  
He hurried off, Burr close at his heels until they reached one of many tents where his men were being taken care of. Alexander's friends and the Baron were waiting for him, watching Burr with scowls that could kill a man. The Marquis started to speak, but the Baron interrupted him with slow-spoken English.  
  
"General." He hesitated a moment, looked to his own aides, and then back to George. "Do not be angry--"  
  
"Is Alexander okay?"  
  
"General, do not speak. Hamilton lives, but do not...hmm...do not hate Hamilton for what you may see. I can assure you that we will not be kind to any terrible behavior."  
  
"If Alexander is alive, then I don't think I won't be senselessly childish and hateful." He started to push by them, but Mulligan put a hand on his shoulder to stop him again.  
  
"Remember our conversation, sir."  
  
"Oh shut up." Burr snapped, interrupting them. "Alexander is Alexandra. She's an illegal soldier."  
  
"What?" That couldn't be right. George's frown deepened, and he couldn't be stopped from entering the tent. The tent was filled with wounded soldiers, but only one bed in the corner had a curtain around it. George's physician came out from behind it and caught George's eye. He nodded, and then moved on to other patients.  
  
Nervously, George approached the curtained bed, holding up a shaking hand to pull it back enough to enter. Alexander was still asleep, the pain and weakness from still recovering from his illness keeping him under. It was a small blessing. On the small table beside the bed were the doctor's notes. He ignored it, moving instead to gently cup Alexander's cheek. He felt so cold to the touch, and it terrified George.  
  
Taking a seat at Alexander's feet, he finally looked to the notes, hoping that it would have some sort of good news on it. Yes, he should survive. No, there were no signs of infection yet. Yes, he was still sick from the other night. But then he read further.  
  
Gender: female.  
  
Burr was right. Alexander was not a man.  
  
George wasn't sure how to feel about that. It was...startling, but it didn't make him angry. Not that. It was that she hadn't told him anything. Why hadn't she said anything? Did she not trust him? The fact that she hadn't it what upset him the most.  
  
He took her hand in his, kissed her palm, and then stood, leaving the tent. George tapped the Marquis and Mulligan's shoulders and motioned for them to follow. "Come." They were going to have a long talk.


	16. Brainstorming Sometimes Leads Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burr is an asshole.  
> Everyone has an uncomfortable conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Alex in this one.  
> Sorry if it's a bit all over the place.

George flung the door open to his office and gestured at the chairs in front of his desk and the seats at the other desks for his aides. The men gathered their chairs and lined them up in front of George's desk, taking a seat silently. A few looked nervous, the others looked ready for a fight, and only one looked smug. He wanted to wipe that smirk off of Burr's face, but he could save that vitriolic anger for another day.  
  
The Baron tried to speak first, but George waved a hand at him to silence the man while he paced around the room. Think. Think. How to talk about this without making it too personal? He didn't have a clue how to go about this; it had never happened before and aside from a few obscure laws that simply stated, "Don't do this thing," there wasn't much to go on. He could throw her out of the military, publically shame her and then throw her out of the military, or have her court marshaled. None of those options appealed to him. George could remember her explanation for why she joined in the first place and assumed that it was still her legitimate reason for coming. George knew Madison, knew how frail he could be, but he could have been assigned a desk position outside of the battle field somewhere else.  
  
Finally, he stilled and turned to her closest friends. "How long have you all known?"  
  
"My boys and I figured it out first," the Barron answered. "When we arrived, do you remember her being offended and then looking as if she'd seen a ghost? I had teased her about it, scaring the poor girl."  
  
"I was second," came from Lafayette. "It was when Alex seemed to be too proud to share a cot with any of us when the worst of the winter weather hit us. The issue was worry that we would discover her secret. I had forced her to share a cot with me one evening because she was shaking so terribly. I swore not to tell anyone."  
  
"John and I were next." Mulligan glanced at George's other aide but gave no explanation, and that left Burr.  
  
"I found out when I was making rounds through the medical tents." Burr still seemed smug. "I can start drafting documents for her to be court marshaled. She's a high born, so there likely won't be anything more than a slap on the wrist, but her family will certainly feel the weight of shame. It'd be a solid example to everyone to know their place, and that no one is above the la--"  
  
"You say one more word, Burr, and I will be happy to be on your list of write-up documents for assaulting an officer." Laurens started to stand up, ready for a fight, but Mulligan pushed him back down into his seat.  
  
"Not the time, John."  
  
"Then when is the right time? He's had it out for Alex since we got here and we've all wanted to punch him. He just has that kind of face that begs to be given a right hook. I'd be happy to deliver him one that even the gods would feel and _then_ , I would give him one that he'd wear the shame of for months and--"  
  
"Enough!" George could feel a headache forming behind his eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. "Just, stop. Burr, say nothing and don't write up anything yet until I figure out a way to handle this. The rest of you, say nothing."  
  
"I can still take them to the highest authority, sir."  
  
"I would love to see how that works out, considering the next highest authority is Jefferson and Adams, both of which I've been close to for years. Do _not_ test me right now. I'm not in the mood for your petty bullshit, Burr."  
  
They tried to stare the other down, holding glares for what seemed like hours, and then Burr sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I'll give you a week, and then I will do everything in my power to make sure she's given a proper trial and sent home with _nothing_."  
  
"You're dismissed, for now, Burr." George didn't want to see his disgusting face right now. As soon as Burr was gone and his steps had faded down the hall, George turned his attention to those left in the room. His shoulders fell, and exhaustion reared its ugly head. "Please, tell me what to do because I don't have a damn clue."  
  
They all looked at one another, sharing a silent conversation, and then the Marquis answered. "Talk to her, privately. Go from there."  
  
George didn't think he'd get any better ideas from anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm seeing a lot more on how genderbend is blatant trans-erasure, and I would like to apologize to anyone this has offended (including my Skyward Bound fic). It wasn't my intention. I don't think anyone has said anything about this fic, but I figured I should add this apology for anyone this may have made them uncomfortable.


	17. My Feelings Haven't Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncomfortable conversation and a crap ton of fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter is something close to what you guys were hoping for. I'm not done with the fic (they're still being invaded, obvs) but we are getting closer to the end.

Because of Alex's situation, she had been moved back to her rooms to finish her recovery. She woke up before she was moved, had talked quietly with the doctor and begged him not to tell anyone--he assured her that he wouldn't, and was visited by her friends. They were a comfort, but they seemed a little on edge. It took time for her to dog them enough to get the information out of them.  
  
George knew that she wasn't a man.  
  
Her fear of getting an infection in the wound didn't compare to the terror of what George must think of her now. Alex was almost relieved that she hadn't seen him yet; she didn't want to see his expression and how he may look at her with utter revulsion and disgust. He had to hate her now for lying to him like this.  
  
Alex slipped in and out of sleep, still tired and in pain from the hole in her side. She didn't want even to move, but she had to for certain things. The doctor was more than happy to help her when he could, but Lafayette usually assisted her with other things. She appreciated the help and understood that moving too much could rip open the stitches. For once, she was a compliant patient and didn't argue with the doctor or Lafayette about wanting something to do; Alex was just so tired.  
  
It couldn't last, and George would have to come around eventually.  
  
He stopped by hers and Lafayette's room one afternoon, a week after the fight, but he wouldn't step through the door. A week. A whole damn week of him never visiting, never checking to see if she were okay. It stung, but she convinced herself that he was just busy with his duties and didn't have time to visit a simple aide. There were higher ranking officers that he could visit and check on, people who were more important than her.  
  
George said nothing and didn't move from his place in the doorway, just let his eyes take her in. Alex knew she looked like shit, with her hair a mess from being unable to wash and brush it properly while she was laid up, and the fact that she was pale and haggard. Coupled with her embarrassment and shame, Alex couldn't bring herself to look at him, afraid that she would find something hateful or cruel there.  
  
Alex refused to look up, even when she heard boots crossing the threshold and making for her bed. It wasn't until George stopped beside her bed that she knew she had no other choice but to meet his gaze. What she found was concern, a touch of fear, and hurt. There was no anger, no hatred or disgust, nothing.  
  
"Are you well?" he asked hesitantly.  
  
"I only have a hole in my side, nothing major." It was a weak attempt at humor, one that was met with a slight crinkle around his eyes, but there wasn't a smile there yet. "Were you hurt?"  
  
"I have a few cuts and bruises, nothing life threatening." He lifted the chair at a desk from the other side of the room and set it down beside her bed, taking a seat immediately after.  
  
Alex was the one to break the long silence. "Sir, I'm sorry for lyi--"  
  
George raised his hand to stop her, and Alex shut her mouth quickly. It wouldn't be wise of me to piss him off right now, she thought to herself. "I'm...not angry, not anymore. I haven't visited sooner because I wanted time to think about this and cool down." He waited until Alex gave him an encouraging nod to continue. "I don't know what to do. Tomorrow, Burr plans to send in letters to Jefferson and the king, demanding that you have a trial for this. I told him to wait a week before he did anything to give me time to figure out how to go about this."  
  
Alex could feel her heart sinking. She was going to be thrown in jail or worse, wasn't she? Would George even defend her? Would her friends protect her? Maybe she could just leave the country and escape with Lafayette or something.  
  
"I'm sorry for putting you in this position, sir."  
  
He shook his head, "Don't apologize. What's done is done. I'm not upset about you being a woman. What does, however, is that you didn't trust me enough to tell me."  
  
"I'm a woman, posing as a man in the military illegally, and you're the general. It would have been your duty to turn me in or worse." Alex knew what she was getting herself into when she did this. If she hadn't tried to save George, she wouldn't have been shot, and she wouldn't have been caught. But then George might not be here right now, alive and well.  
  
"Did you not trust me to keep it secret?"  
  
"I just told you that you would have been bound by your position and your ridiculous sense of honor to turn in a woman for having an actual rank in the military where she is not allowed. If not because of the law, you'd have done it to keep me safe. So no, I didn't. And apparently, Burr knows, which means half of the camp probably knows by now, so yeah, the secret is out, and now this will prove my point."  
  
"I haven't turned you in, nor was I planning to Hamilton." He corrected her. "Asking you to leave would only piss you off and raise suspicion."  
  
"Then what in the hell are you going to do?" she snapped. "Because I don't see any other options."  
  
"An aide is technically a secretarial job, by another name, you're not actually breaking the law. Now, actually fighting? That isn't allowed, however, if we're under attack, then you need to be able to defend yourself." He paused a moment, mulling over his next words. "I am close enough to the king that I may be able to bend the rules a little in your favor."  
  
Alex sighed in relief and sagged back against the headboard. Well, it wasn't guaranteed to work, but it was a start in the right direction.  
  
"However, I must strip you of your rank."  
  
Well, that sucks, but if it kept her out of trouble, so be it.  
  
"And Burr?"  
  
"Because an officer under my command is writing a report, I am required to do so as well. I will provide an accurate report. However, I will include your reasoning behind your decision, along with what I did to fix what I could of the problem."  
  
"Taking my rank?"  
  
"Taking your rank," he affirmed. "I also have to commission you a different type of uniform, when we get those, you'll have to turn in your current gear."  
  
"Yes, sir." Alex didn't like it, but she would do what she had to if it kept her out of jail and from being shamed.  
  
"Alex."  
  
"Hm?" She met his gaze again, and the fear from earlier had been replaced with such gentle kindness and fond adoration, that Alex didn't know what to do with it.  
  
"My feelings haven't changed." And there was an even greater relief, one she didn't know was more important to her than being arrested.  
  
"Mine have not either."  
  
George gestured to her bed, silently asking to join her. Alex nodded and scooted over, grimacing the whole way as she made room for him. He stayed above the blankets, shoes kicked off and sitting beside her. He tucked her against his side, and Alex wound up falling asleep again; she didn't have as much to worry about for now.


	18. To Have and to Associate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't give you a summary without giving away what happens.  
> But you guys are going to like this chapter, I hope. Lemme know if it feels too rushed.

Her side was itchy, and it was driving her up a wall. She couldn't lift anything, and her friends kept trying to spoon feed her. Almost two weeks after being shot, and she wished the guy had aimed for her head instead. She wouldn't have to put up with this nonsense.  
  
"Quit babying me."  
  
"Quit acting like one."  
  
She scowled at John, arms folding over her chest. It wound up looking more like a pout than an actual nonverbal threat. John ignored it.  
  
"I can feed myself. Both of my arms work just fine, and if you're worried about me pulling at the stitches, I'll use the other hand. Just, please, for the sake of my dignity, lemme feed myself."  
  
They stared one another down for what seemed like minutes, and then John was huffing and shoving her bowl towards her. "When your guts spill out, don't come crying to me."  
  
"I'll probably rejoice if it gets me out of being treated like an invalid." She used the hand opposite the wound and ate contentedly; finally, she got a little wiggle room. Thank the gods for that one.  
  
"That's a perfect image, Hamilton. I'm sure I could arrange that." Burr was standing over them, having stopped as he passed by with his own meal.  
  
"Burr, sir, don't you have small children to scare off?" she shot back.  
  
"What do you think I'm doing right now?"  
  
"Excuse you?" Oh, she was going to kick his ass. Alex started to stand, wanting to give the man a piece of her mind, but she could hardly stand up without clinging to the table to keep from collapsing. This put a damper on her plans and brought a gleeful smirk on Burr's face.  
  
"Aw, poor Hamilton. Can't back up the threats? That'll get you shot one day."  
  
"Is THAT a threat, sir? Because I will be more than willing to meet you on the field the moment I can stand up straight to remind you that I'm one of the best damn shots here." It'd be a while before she could, but damn if she didn't want to. Burr was a shit shooter, so it wouldn't be difficult...so long as George didn't find out.  
  
"Such language is unbecoming of someone like you." The unspoken threat of saying what she was out loud was there, and Alex had to concede for now. She was too tired for this anyway.  
  
"And your smiles are absolutely terrifying. Now go screw yourself with a shovel."  
  
Burr didn't drop the smirk and continued on his way, proud of his petty victory. Alex ignored him and slowly lowered herself into her seat with a grimace.  
  
"Please don't get into a gun fight with Burr. That has bad idea written all over it."  
  
Alex shot Hercules a look. "Silence from the peanut gallery. You know you want to do it too."  
  
"Yes, but some of us know when to keep our mouths shut. You're just provoking him." He pushed his bowl away with a sigh and leaned back in his chair. "Speaking of, what did the general decide to do about the uh, situation?"  
  
She glanced around and shook her head. "No, back up stairs, and then I'll talk about it." Finally. Alex had been tight lipped about it until she heard more from George about what was going on and what would be done with her.  
  
Hercules was already making her new uniforms to fit the status she was about to switch to.  
  
\--  
  
"Sir, will I still have the same authority, even without the rank?" Mainly, would she be able to stay with her friends in the house they were staying in or would she be sent elsewhere? Without her rank and position, she could be removed. And once it got out that she was a woman, and was sharing a room with Lafayette... Alex was not looking forward to the rumors.  
  
George seemed to read her mind, and his expression softened. "The letter I sent Adams addresses that problem and asks for certain...leniency in some areas. It should not be a problem."  
  
"And what about Lafayette? I don't think I'll be able to stay as his roommate without rumors circulating about us."  
  
"I am unsure of how to handle that at the moment, not until I hear back from Adams." So they were in limbo. Lovely. "But I am open to ideas."  
  
"Uh, I can't pull the brother/sister card. Or cousins. Our families are known well enough for people to see through that." She hummed, chewing on her lip. "I don't want a fake engagement to him either. That wouldn't be fair to him."  
  
"It wouldn't have to be real. It could be until the war is over and then you both could part ways, deciding that it wasn't for you?" George scratched the back of his neck, head shaking. "I will have to think on it later this evening."  
  
"George? What happens after this war is over? You said we'd talk about it but then that mess happened and..." Alex was picking at one of the buttons on her uniform's coat; she didn't want to have this conversation.  
  
George stopped what he was doing and turned to face her, staring thoughtfully; it made Alex squirm, but she didn't drop her gaze. After a minute of this, he smiled, and it was almost bashful. "I would like very much if we continued with our association."  
  
She snorted at the wording and stood, striding over to him and smirking. "Our association? Is that what people call it these days?" Alex pecked his cheek. "I would too."  
  
His soft smile dropped suddenly, and his eyes lit up. "I think...I think I just thought of something that might work."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
George grinned, actually grinned. "I'll tell you later."  
  
\--  
  
"Mulligan, I have a favor to ask of you."  
  
The man in question's eyes darted up from the maps he was marking up, pointing out locations of supplies and small cells of enemy soldiers. He'd built a perfect network of spies for them; all he had to do, was go through all of the reports he'd received and pen them for others. "Okay."  
  
"I was wondering if you knew anyone her that could make something for me." George launched into his plan, what he and Alex had talked about before he came up with this scheme, and asked Mulligan if he had his permission to even go through with it.  
  
Mulligan held up a finger to stop him, "One moment." He poked his head out the door and caught someone walking by, asking them to fetch Laurens and Lafayette. When the two men came in, Mulligan motioned for George to tell them the same thing.  
  
The three shared looks, silently communicating their thoughts on the matter, and finally, Mulligan turned back to George with a grin. "Yeah, we know a few people who could help with that."  
  
\--  
  
For obvious reasons, George not telling her what was going on was bothering her. Why couldn't she know the plan? It involved her too, and they were to find out the verdict of Adams' decision soon. Shouldn't she have some idea of how George was going to handle whatever the man wanted to do with Alex's case?  
  
She got her answer one evening when there was a knock on her door. Upon opening it, she was unsurprised to find George waiting on the other side, dressed in his ceremonial uniform. It was late in the evening, and most had retired for the night, so she couldn't for the life of her figure out what called for him to dress up like this.  
  
"Walk with me?"  
  
Alex grabbed her coat and slipped on her boots, following him out of the room and outside. He guided her to the edge of camp and the woods, taking some kind of winding path to who knows where. It was only when they walked into a clearing that George stopped and turned to her.  
  
"This may be early, and I would like to do a better version of this when the war is over if you would allow it." He paused. "We've known each other for almost a year now, and have grown close. Alex, I count you as one of my greatest friends."  
  
George had never been so nervous in his life, not even when he went to battle for the first time. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, how his palms grew sweaty. Lips twitching to a slight grin, he knelt on one knee, fumbling with whatever he was trying to dig out of his pocket. "I was wondering if you would continue to associate with me?"  
  
Alex was in shock. First of all, he was doing this. For her. Her, Alexandra Madison. Just plain Alex. There wasn't anything special about her, and here he was, pulling this stunt. There were a few moments of silence, in which she noticed how he was beginning to grow uncomfortable. Slowly grinning, Alex held out her hand. "George Washington, I would be honored to associate myself with you."  
  
The moment he slipped a ring onto her finger, something made of a recycled gun shell until he could get a proper ring--she wouldn't have it as she was thrilled just to have this--she threw herself at him with a laugh and kissed him. They wound up in a heap on the ground, and she forgot the slight twinge in her side as they were trying not to laugh while they kissed happily.  
  
"If you replace this ring, I'll strangle you with it. I love it."  
  
They pressed their foreheads to the others, beaming.  
  
"So is that a yes?" Alex deadpanned, pulling back so he could get a full view of her 'are you kidding me?' expression. "Just checking!"  
  
"Now to win this war so we can associate ourselves in peace."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Associate" is code for "I love you" and I think that's beautiful.  
> XDDD  
> Let me know what you guys think and squeal with me. I love the squealing.


	19. Goodbye and Goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex loses her rank and a few other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up that there's brief sexual harassment in the beginning that ends with Alex giving a guy a bloody nose.
> 
> Sooooo, this chapter is gonna be sad, and y'all are going to hate me in the next one. Anyway, enjoy the pain!

The commissioned uniforms that George ordered her were finished and put into her room within a few days. Mulligan was apparently the one who made them. Alex had to admit; they were pristine, crisp, and without the stains of blood and mud from battle. That didn't mean she was happy to be back in frilly clothes again. After wearing pants with her uniform, she was dreading having a skirt, even a plain military one. However, Mulligan surprised her with pants, rather than skirts. There was a single skirt, in case something came up and she had to act as if she were in a proper woman's uniform, but until then, she could relax and enjoy keeping the pants. Now if she could only do away with the lacy half-collar that went up her neck; it itched and was a bother. Oh well, at least she could stay here for now; she shouldn't complain.  
  
Because of her situation, the room she shared with Lafayette became hers while he was moved elsewhere. Alex wished that he could stay; she liked the late night conversation and had grown used to his soft snores from across the room.  
  
But that wasn't the problem.  
  
After she switched uniforms, whispers followed her, gossiping of what could have happened that allowed a woman into the military. Who did she sleep with? How was she allowed to remain? Who gave her the engagement ring? The few catcalls that she'd hear from across the mess tent bothered her. She'd been here a year and had earned most people's respect, and now that she's suddenly a woman, they could treat her like a piece of meat? At least her friends stuck with her; that's all that mattered in the end.  
  
George could only do so much to protect her from it, but the looks he gave his men was usually enough to shut them up.  
  
The one time someone dared to lay a hand on her, Alex had whirled around and broken the pervert's nose. She spat on him when he hit the ground. "Back off."  
  
And that's another thing. If someone took the taunting too far, Alex might not be able to fight them off, not if they knew she would try. They'd sport the consequences of their actions for weeks if she could land a hit on them. Alex just hoped that it wouldn't come to that.  
  
She'd fought at their sides, and this was how they turned on her?  
  
It was depressing.  
  
\--  
  
A week and a half after George and Burr sent their letters, they finally got a response. George didn't call them and Alex's friends in until he had already read it; he needed to know what to say and how to handle it. Everyone took a seat, noting that George's expression was flat, something they couldn't read. For Alex and her friends, that made them uneasy, but for Burr, he seemed excited for what would come.  
  
"I have received word from Adams on where to go from here." He paused and took a deep breath, "Hamilton, your rank has been officially stripped from your name. While you earned it, your circumstances won't allow you to keep it. I'm sorry. As for what happens now, you will remain here until someone can retrieve you, with a chaperone, and take you home."  
  
She didn't want to go. "Sir, I--"  
  
"I'm not finished." That shut her up. "While you are being sent home, Adams has prevented any charges or punishments that could be held against you; you walk out of here an "upstanding citizen," as he worded it. Your father will not have to serve, his duty has been paid in full and then some by your services."  
  
Burr's smirk nearly took over the entirety of his face, and Alex tried to avoid looking at it; it made her ill to see him this happy about her demotion and discharge.  
  
"And the engagement didn't help?" Alex received a shake of his head.  
  
"Lastly, because of your actions in battle, protecting your commanding officer, you WILL receive the highest honor that can be given to a civilian." George set the letter down, running a hand over his scalp. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more to avoid this."  
  
"I'm not. Women don't belong here, and likely never will. It's too dangerous for--" John tried to launch himself at Burr, but Hercules caught him before he could. The brief moment before John was stopped yielded a terrified expression from Burr, for all of a split second. "And when MEN have to defend her honor, there's an even bigger problem. In battle, people will be too busy protecting the little girl at the side to do any major damage to the enemy."  
  
The entirety of the chaos went in one ear and out the other for Alex; she felt numb, sick, melancholic, and--pissed. Pissed that she had earned her right to be here and was being kicked out merely because she wasn't a man. Pissed because Burr was a pansy who never truly had his men's backs in battle, too worried for his own safety. Pissed because everything she had done for George, for her friends, for the diplomats that stayed with them and that she translated for, and pissed because she was twice the soldier this asshole would ever be.  
  
In a flash, she was on her feet and slamming her hands down on the arms of the chair Burr was seated in. "I'm not the one hiding behind my men to save my own skin. I'm not the one who kisses everyone's ass to get what he wants and where he wants. I'm not the one who can't fight for myself. I'm not the one who is a slippery piece of shit who doesn't give a damn for anyone but himself."  
  
Silence followed, with Alex and Burr staring one another down while everyone else in the room waited as the tension built. She wouldn't be the first to break eye contact, not this time and not because of him.  
  
Burr's initial shock wore off, replaced by a Cheshire smirk. Slowly, he gently forced her to let go of his chair and stood over her. "See? This is why women shouldn't be in the military. They're too emotional."  
  
That did it. She wasn't a soldier anymore anyway.  
  
With a growl, Alex launched herself at him, getting two hits on him before Hercules had to yank her back too. He scrambled to his feet, covering his bleeding nose and bruised eye. "She just assaulted an officer!"  
  
Lafayette was the first to speak, smirking. "She's not a soldier anymore, remember? Now, she's a woman defending herself against an asshole who has nothing better to do than to pick on someone who has a lower rank or no rank at all. She's well within her right to punch you. I only wish I could do so as well."  
  
This was getting out of hand, and George didn't have a clue what to do. They were fighting, and his fiance just attacked one of his officers. When Burr looked to him, George could only shrug. "Be glad it was my fiance and not me, Burr. And before you leave, you'll need to hand in your pins. Your behavior towards a civilian had just earned you a demotion."  
  
Burr shot a murderous look to Alex before storming out of the office and into the hall, going who knows where. No one in that room cared to know. Hercules finally released Alex with an apologetic smile, mumbling a 'sorry' for stopping her; he may have also muttered that he would have placed his bets on her winning if the fight had continued. That almost got a smile out of her.  
  
But now, she was just tired.  
  
Falling gracelessly into her chair, Alex clenched her eyes shut and exhaled slowly. Breathe. Relax.  
  
"You really shouldn't have done that," came from one of the Baron's aides, causing John to snort with laughter.  
  
"I would have paid good money to see Alex beat the shit out of him."  
  
"Enough." George was getting a headache. "Alex, love, please try not to punch Burr. I know it's hard, but please." He didn't want to know what could happen if Burr decided to retaliate. She gave him a small nod but glared at her knees.  
  
"For now, Alex, you'll need to make sure your things are packed. The escort will be here in two day's time."  
  
Alex didn't wait to hear the rest before she was on her feet and leaving the office without a word, slamming the door shut behind her. She knew it wasn't George's fault, or anyone's really, but man slamming a door felt great.  
  
\--  
  
Saying goodbye was difficult. Neither wanted Alex to leave, and so they spent as long as they could just standing together in George's office, foreheads pressed together. George tried to assure her that he'd rather have her by his side, but it did little to lift either of their spirits. They finally had to part from one another, and Alex had to make her way down the stairs and out the door to the carriage that was to take her home. Her friends were waiting there for her, each hugging her goodbye and trying to make sure she knew she was wanted here. It didn't help much either.  
  
Alex didn't know who the woman was that was taking her home, but Adams seemed to think she was a good choice for Alex. She couldn't bring herself to look out the window to where her friends stood, waving her off; she didn't look to see George in the window of his office, watching her leave.  
  
It wasn't fair.  
  
But that's life.  
  
\--  
  
Burr checked the letter he'd received, detailing a pick-up order and nodded to himself. Good, supplies would be given after this, among other things. He reached out to the fireplace and tossed the letter into it. The page curled as the fire burned through the material. No one had to know the sacrifices he made for them.


	20. The Death of the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burr's plans seem to be a success.  
> Until they're not.  
> Hey there King George

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll warn y'all in advanced that there's death and mentions/threats of blood and gore.  
> Alex offs someone. I'll let you predict the victim until you get to that point.  
> S/O to dirtkid123 for the nearly perfect prediction of what Burr did.

Darkness.  
  
That's what she saw when she woke.  
  
Something was over her eyes, preventing her from seeing her surroundings, but that didn't mean she couldn't hear what was going on. Alex stayed curled into a ball on her side and subtly tested the rope around wrists and feet. Nope. Not getting out of these for a while. That was fine; this would give her time to figure out what was going on to send in help or a warning or...something. Maybe.  
  
When sound started to register, there were two people whispering in the room with her. Something about a trade off or...whatever. Then her name. None of it made sense. Why did they need her and what trade were they talking about?  
  
"Hey, I think the kid is awake." Shoot.  
  
Alex tensed, prepared for whatever they would throw or hit her with, only for her to be hauled into an upright seated position...on an arm chair. The blindfold was removed with a flourish that Alex would have rolled her eyes at if she weren't preoccupied with taking in every detail about her captors and her environment and what they wanted with her. The man who removed the blindfold looked familiar, and it took a moment for her to place him. The carriage driver.  
  
The other man stumped her for all of three seconds. Stuck-up, an obnoxiously large crown, and the clothes of someone who wanted to look rich without paying attention to what they were pulling out of their wardrobes. King George. How did she get here, how long had she been out, where was the supposed chaperone, and oh no, no one knew she was here...  
  
"I know I'm handsome, but there's no need to stare." Forget how he carried himself and dressed; his voice was the most pretentious sound that she had ever heard, even among the tittering ladies at balls. "Do you know where you are?"  
  
She thought about not answering, but she needed to behave in the hopes that she'd find a way out of here when they grew lax in their imprisonment. Alex shook her head no.  
  
"Good!" The man was disgustingly happy for someone trying to take over all neighboring nations and build an empire. Shouldn't he be more...somber or stoic? Not a bubbly whatever this was. "Now, a friend of yours told me you're a fighter and not to underestimate you, hence the bonds." No kidding. "But while I wish to call him foolish, you're a woman, by herself, with the fate of her country and betrothed at stake. I believe you'll behave yourself just nicely."  
  
How did he know she was--  
  
"Your friend told me, and he told me who it was, which makes this arrangement even more delightful." She had to fight the squirm beneath his cheery gaze; it was unnerving to have your captor grinning like that.  
  
Alex thought back to all of the times she and Hercules went out on missions together, how they worked as a team to accomplish anything and everything handed to them. She just wished she were less unnerved to think clearly on all of the training they went through. "Who was the friend?"  
  
"Aaron Burr. He told me you two got along like peas in a pod." Of course, it was him. Of course, Burr was the turncoat. And of course, he'd hand Alex over to the enemy. The fiancee of the general in the enemy's hands? Few other advantages could beat that. The queasy feeling she'd had the day he stormed out was back. No one knew Burr had turned on them.  
  
"And what does he get out of it?"  
  
"He gets to live, and a title within my empire. Say, a governor over this soon-to-be state of mine."  
  
"He hands me to you, and he gets my country in return?" No matter how good of a deal it sounded like, Alex would rather die a thousand times over before she betrayed everyone back home.  
  
"Yep! Just like that."  
  
There was a beat of silence before Alex snorted, "He's not actually getting that, is he? A snitch being given a state this large to govern? You don't seem like the type to just give that to someone over a single girl."  
  
The king all but pranced to where she sat, affectionately patting her cheek. "You're a brilliant girl. No wonder the general likes you." Alex couldn't fight the urge to try and duck away from the hand, the one that seemed so friendly, like one between a parent and child. The king tsk'd and gripped her chin, forcing her in place. "However, you're going to be the bargaining chip to end this war. According to Burr, you're all he has left now, and won't that be motivation enough to submit?"  
  
Another snort from Alex. "You apparently don't know him very well, your majesty. The man wouldn't pick one over the many. We both understood and agreed to that."  
  
"So you're saying you wouldn't be of any use to me?" Alex wasn't exactly saying THAT, but maybe it would force the king to halt his advance long enough for Alex to get out of here. So long as the king didn't kill her for being useless. The king seemed to read her thoughts and smirked, "That's what I thought. Now, Arnold, please untie her and ask the staff to serve us dinner."  
  
Untie her? Share a meal? Why? She could easily take a butter knife to his throat. Alex would likely die in the process, but at least this asshole would be dead and gone.  
  
When the ropes were taken away, Alex rubbed at her wrists with a wince. Well, that was pleasant. She looked up to find the king already seated at a small table on the other side of the room, watching her expectantly and with a false smile. Alex schooled her features before joining him, stumbling a little in her first few steps before she managed to find her balance again. Rope. Remind her never to be tied up again.  
  
She took a seat cautiously, eyes hardly leaving his aside from a quick glance to where there were guards posted at the door; Alex didn't trust this small act of "kindness." Food was brought in and set on the table between them, and Alex took note of how it was stew, and therefore needed no knives or forks. Well, the man wasn't an idiot. Even the bread that would be shared between them was already buttered. She had a spoon and a napkin, nothing more. The worst part was, that the king stared at her, even while they ate.  
  
If his goal was to make her uncomfortable, then he was succeeding.  
  
Alex couldn't stand the silence between them. "Your majesty, what happens until you use me against the general?" She didn't think it would help her case any if she named him. The king knew the silence bugged her, and the mind games continued.  
  
"Well, you get to stay with me for the next two days before we dress you up as one of ours and send you to battle with everyone else. You'll remain in the backline with the officers, where the general can look into his scope and see you there. Won't that be a funny surprise?" Funny? No. Terrifying? Yes.  
  
What if George thought she had lied to him again. Alex, on the side of the enemy and in their uniform? It could destroy him, or it could leave him furious and willing to execute her for what he thought was treason. Neither option was a pleasant image. If he thought it was treason, he or someone else might shoot her where she was before investigating the problem. Or maybe he wouldn't. He seemed to have a great deal of self-control. Maybe this would be fine. She would be fine. He would be...not so fine, but maybe he'd get over it one day.  
  
"Ha, I see I struck a nerve." Alex focused in on the king again, watching as he daintily dabbed at his lips before setting it to the side. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off of his face. "Is there a problem, Miss Madison?"  
  
"No. No, sir, I understand." She wasn't feeling very hungry and stopped after only two spoonfuls. "Am I to stay in a cell or something?" It was the logical place to put her.  
  
But this man was out of his mind, apparently, because he shook his head and laughed. "No! No, you get to stay with me. I mean that." Alex felt the color drain from her skin. "Oh, don't worry. Not like that. There's no reason to deflower a subject before her wedding, as is my right, if there won't be a wedding. I have someone else to entertain me."  
  
Small miracles.  
  
"Now, I'll send for someone to come in and clean you up, do a few beauty treatments and the like. Being a soldier for a year has done a number on your hair, and I'm sure a touch of oil on your skin would do wonders for you. I refuse to share a bed with a scruffy street-rat. And, we need you to look your best when you see your betrothed again, yes?" The king clapped his hands and two women filed in with baskets and a cart that had everything they could need for Alex. Didn't she leave home to get away from this too?  
  
"I'll be back later. Try not to have too much fun without me!" And just like that, he was gone, leaving Alex with the two staff and the guards. Well, this was fun.  
  
\--  
  
George knew something was wrong the moment another carriage showed up two hours after Alex had left, stating that they were here to take her home. Was this a trick, or was the other carriage one? He called for Lafayette, needing him immediately. The man came running into the house and to George's office.  
  
"Sir? What's wrong?"  
  
George pointed at the carriage outside, "They're here to pick up Alex."  
  
He watched the horror on his face as Lafayette figured it out. "Oh no. If they are here, who were the others that took her home?"  
  
"That's just it. I don't know which one is the imposter here." The driver and the guardian didn't seem put out by Alex not being there, not like someone would if they had planned something, only for it to fail. "I think the other one was. Alex may have been--"  
  
"--Kidnapped."  
  
George sunk into his chair and swore quietly. Why would someone take Alex? Sure, she was in the upper class, but no one else knew that she was here, or that she was leaving, right? How had someone figured it out? "Start a search. Find that carriage. Now."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
\--  
  
They couldn't find her; it was like they just vanished, and the second carriage said that they didn't see anyone else on the road. So where did they go? They couldn't have gone far in a carriage.  
  
Which was proven true the next day when they found an empty carriage in the woods with Alex's trunk attached to the back. George wanted to shoot someone, whoever took her, as revenge for whatever the hell they were doing. Bandits wouldn't do this, so who else would take her?  
  
The enemy didn't know that they were engaged, right? No. He and Alex were discrete about the whole thing to not draw attention to it. They didn't want anyone putting up a fuss or starting a rumor. Maybe someone who knew her father? No, they couldn't have known either. It didn't make sense.  
  
\--  
  
Until it did.  
  
Until they went to battle the next day and Laurens alerted him to seeing Alex at the top of the hill. George whipped out his scope and looked across the battlefield; Alex was there, on a horse and in a red uniform, watching as the fight played out between the warring nations. She certainly didn't seem happy, but she didn't look miserable either.  
  
At least she was alive.  
  
"Sir? What do we do?"  
  
George closed the scope and tucked it into his coat pocket. He didn't look at Laurens as he answered, "We fight like this were any other battle."  
  
"But what about Alex?"  
  
"Fight anyone in a red coat."  
  
\--  
  
One of the king's generals passed her his scope to look across at George. She was relieved to see him, alive and well for the moment, but that didn't mean she was looking forward to whatever happened next. He had a cold expression, from what she could tell, worse than what he typically wore in a fight. And he was looking in their direction. As if it burned her, Alex quickly tossed it back to the general beside her; she didn't want to see George, and she definitely didn't want to see that look aimed at her...or at least in her general direction. He could be glaring at someone else, someone else in this line up of high-ranking officers.  
  
Alex could hope.  
  
The king was seated on his own horse, a few yards back where the officers would take the hit first if something happened. This was to be the day they claimed victory over this nation, and he wanted to be here to see it when General Washington surrendered when he saw Alex. He wouldn't miss this for the world.  
  
"See anything you like, Alexandra?"  
  
She ignored the beginnings of a taunt, focused solely on George's location in the fight. Or, tried to. Alex prayed for his safety and began to think of a way to get free of the officers and the king beside and behind her. She was in a red coat, so she could slip into the British ranks without being noticed, and take it off halfway across the field and hope her comrades recognized her.  
  
Her time came when a soldier was close enough for her to throw the reins around his neck and choke him; it bought her a second to snatch his gun and saber, kick him away, and spur the horse on to run into the fray. The king's laughter followed her into the chaos.  
  
She was right in assuming that the British soldiers ignored her, simply diving out of the way of an oncoming horse like they would for anyone else. The problem came when she grew close enough to where both sides had clashed, where the fighting was the worst and tried to rip the jacket off. She didn't need to be a target for them, running around on a horse and in a red jacket. She almost managed to get it off when her horse let out a shriek and tumbled, sending Alex flying into a heap on the ground. Sounds and smells left her a second, dazed as she was to register anything but the figures fighting around her. She could hear her heart beating in her ears, and she felt the dull throb in her side from her previous injury. Mostly healed or not, that fall hurt like hell.  
  
Pushing herself to her hands and knees, Alex managed to grab the rifle and saber and crawl to push forward. She couldn't stop, not while injured, tired, hungry, and in the middle of a fight where at any moment, one of her countrymen could kill her. Alex managed to get to her feet when she found an opening in the throng of men and ripped off her coat to finally eliminate the bullseye on her back. Two men recognized her, and they lit up for a split second before shouting for her to get out of there. As more figured out who she was, they started to part the way for her to get through while they forced the enemy out of her way.  
  
It was when she managed to escape the chaos that she finally had the ability to take off for the back line of officers. Alex didn't get very far before someone stepped in front of her and pointed a gun at her chest. Dread filled her, fearing it would be Burr or someone else who didn't like her, but it was worse. George stood there, cold glare in place as he looked her over.  
  
Alex looked great until she threw herself into the fight to escape. Now, she was covered with blood and mud, and her hair was a mess again. Other than that, she didn't seem hurt. And George hated himself for thinking that. She could have betrayed them. What if she gave away their secrets?  
  
"Drop your weapons, Madison." And didn't that sting? Back to last names, and it was her actual name this time. She didn't drop the saber, but she did let the gun clatter to the ground at her feet.  
  
"George, please, just let me explain what happened."  
  
"Drop your weapon."  
  
"No. Because there are assholes behind us who want us dead and I refuse to be without something to defend myself with. Now, are you going to let me explain or not."  
  
"I will not ask again, Madison."  
  
She let the saber fall, and her desperate expression of hope for understanding fell with it. "George--"  
  
"Did you commit treason?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"What did you tell them!"  
  
"N-nothing! I didn't! It's Burr, he planne--" He cut her off and grabbed her arm, hauling her to the line of officers to have some semblance of cover.  
  
"Your hatred for Burr has blinded you. Laurens, get her out of here and keep her safe."  
  
Like hell would she let George fight without her. Alex ripped her arm away with a huff. "Burr traded me in to gain power over our country when the British won! The king lied and said he'd make Burr the governor over us. Look around! Where is he?" That forced everyone to stop and look around with dawning horror. "I don't think I was supposed to escape, but I was here to throw you off or force you to surrender." Everything came out in a rush before he could interrupt her again. He had to listen to her.  
  
George and Alex ignored the fighting behind them, Alex staring at George in fear of the man doing something and George trying to read Alex. Finally, he looked to John. "We'll find him after this is over. For now, Alex, get back to base and--"  
  
Alex snatched her weapons up from the ground and rushed for George's horse. "I'll be back. Herc, with me!"  
  
Despite George trying to order Hercules to stay put, he took off after Alex. They made their way into the woods and away from the fighting before turning and heading for the enemy's backline. They were going to ambush them, at least long enough to try and take out the king. The pair managed to get back there, but now they just had to get close enough to do the job without being heard.  
  
"Do you want the honor or me?" Hercules whispered.  
  
Alex loaded her gun and then adjusted her grip on the saber. Blad for the king, gun to return fire when they were caught. "Just get me in there."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
The two crawled carefully through the patches of tall grass that hadn't been trampled on when the British first came through. They just had to get close enough for Alex to run him through. Or slice his throat. Although, it may be safer to just shoot him from back here and--wait. Sitting beside the king, in a black jacket rather than British-red, was Burr. She was getting him as soon as she got the king.  
  
As soon as they got close enough, Hercules was about to shoot the horse to bring the king to the ground when they heard hoof beats behind them. Alex glanced back to find George, who came to a sudden halt when he saw what they were doing. It was loud enough that Burr heard it and turned to find the three of them behind the officers' line.  
  
"Ambush!" he shouted.  
  
The king turned his horse, ready to flee when Hercules shot the horse in the leg to down it and force the man to the ground. The king tumbled to the ground, and Alex lurched forward while Hercules went in the opposite direction to cover her. It wasn't as exciting as she thought it would be. There was no fanfare and no moment of time slowing as the king realized that he was dead. Throwing her weight ensured that the saber went straight through the king's stomach and embedded itself into the ground beneath him. It was satisfying, and yet it wasn't.  
  
As she watched the king die before her, Alex missed Burr dodging behind Hercules to hold a gun to her head. Was everyone going to point their weapons at her today? She was getting sick of it. "Drop it."  
  
Alex did as she was told, and then slowly turned to face him, hands raised. Hercules froze in place when he found that Burr had gotten behind him, and the enemy officers had ceased their fighting when Alex killed their king. "Mulligan, one step closer and I will paint the ground with her brains. Do not test me."  
  
When he was sure Hercules wouldn't try and stop Burr, the man turned back to face Alex. "You just took my future from me. I was to lead this great nation when they won, almost a king here. Do you have any idea what you've just stolen from me? You're a piece of shit, a pathetic excuse of a kid pretending to play soldier."  
  
"Says the coward," Alex mumbled, glaring up at him. "You threw me to the wolves to end the war in your favor. Your king is dead, and you've committed treason. Let it go, Burr."  
  
"Like hell, I will!" He snorted and pressed the cold barrel against her skin. "I'm going to enjoy this so much. Finally, you'll be out of my hair."  
  
Someone moved behind Burr and Alex jerked back as George smacked Burr in the back of the head with his gun. Burr's discharged, the bullet whizzing passed Alex, but not without the crack deafening her on that side. Burr hit the ground and struggled back to his feet, swearing, only for George to push him back down with his boot to Burr's chest.  
  
George had his gun pointed at Burr's forehead, "That's my future wife, you traitorous bastard." George would ask Adams personally to let him be the one to carry out the punishment at the end. Before he could say any more, horns sounded beside them as the officers called a temporary retreat. They'd lost their king and needed to regroup; they could worry about the invasion later.  
  
"Mulligan, tie him up and head back to camp. Collect Laurens as you go. I took his horse."  
  
Hercules was all too happy to flip Burr onto his stomach and bind him with his belts; he wasn't gentle and seemed to take pleasure in Burr's grunts of discomfort. "I would be happy to, sir."  
  
Alex only heard half of it, but she knew enough to remove her own belts and pass it to Hercules. "To tie him to your horse." Hercules may have said thank you, or may not have, Alex didn't know and didn't care at the moment. George helped Hercules tie Burr to the horse and waited until they left to turn back to Alex. Soldiers were running away behind George, following their officers in a retreat; the general and his fiancee were the least of their problems.  
  
He set his gun down and rushed to envelop her in his arms. "Alex, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for that."  
  
Alex leaned into him with a tired sigh, "It's fine. I would have doubted me too honestly."  
  
George pulled back slightly and ran his hand over her cheek, "Let's go back and we can talk. I'd rather not...with them..." Alex nodded and followed George to Laurens' horse. He waited until Alex settled on the saddle before hopping on behind her. The war may not be completely over, but for the moment, they could breathe a little.  
  
\--  
  
George had to make sure his men got back to camp and that there were teams to go out and collect their dead before he could leave for a few minutes. Everyone seemed to be in better spirits after that victory, and even more so when Hercules spread the word that Alex was the one to kill the king. Alex had immediately made for Lafayette's room to clean up and swipe clothes to borrow. Afterwards, she headed to George's quarters and collapsed into his desk chair to wait. She was tired, relieved, and really wanted the weekend off to spend with George.  
  
After all of that, she felt she'd earned it.  
  
Alex could hear the men shouting and singing outside after night had fallen to celebrate by the time George joined her. He stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind him; he didn't notice her yet, and it gave Alex a chance to check for any wounds. There were none, but he looked dead on his feet and so much older. George had sagged against the door when Alex finally stood and padded over to him.  
  
He looked up as she approached and some of the exhaustion seemed to leave him, and he straightened and offered her a weak smile. When he opened his arms for her, Alex gladly wrapped her arms around his neck while his went around her waist. Nothing needed to be said yet, or done; they were content to stand there and hold one another. It was a relief for George to have her back and safe, and Alex was glad to be far away from the king and his creepy staff. If they were not in the middle of a war, she'd liken it to coming home.  
  
"Let me wash up and change, and then I'll join you in a few minutes."  
  
With a small nod, Alex stepped back and released him to go take her place behind his desk again to wait. Honestly, she wouldn't mind watching, but they were both so tired that neither would be able to enjoy it. Maybe later.  
  
George returned to find Alex half asleep and smiled. She was so cute like that, but also so small and young; her kidnapping worried him a little more. Had they hurt her? Like this, she looked helpless, even though he knew that she wasn't.  
  
"Alex, would you like to stay with me tonight?"  
  
"If that's okay."  
  
"I wouldn't offer if it wasn't." George helped her to her feet, and in a moment of playfulness, scooped her up bridal style and carried her to bed. Alex had snorted in amusement and didn't make a complaint; she was too tired to put up a fight over being able to walk on her own.  
  
They crawled under the blankets and Alex immediately latched on to George's side with a happy hum. "We should cuddle more often."  
  
That drew a laugh out of him. "Well, if we decide to continue our association, then we can for the rest of our lives." He ran his fingers through her short hair, wrapping his other arm around her.  
  
"Mmm, this is why you're the general. You have great ideas, George." Alex laughed, but it was interrupted by a yawn. "Excuse me."  
  
"I am pretty sure you're the smarter one of the two of us."  
  
"Yeah, but you're an old man, so obviously you should know more--" She yelped when he lightly pinched her side. "What? It's true."  
  
"I'm not that much older than you." They fell into a comfortable silence, content to just exist beside their other half. It lasted a few minutes, and Alex was almost asleep when George spoke again. "So is that a yes to getting marr--"  
  
"George, they would have to lock me away somewhere to keep me from walking down that damn aisle to you." It was her turn to pinch him, smiling tiredly. "They couldn't stop me if they tried."  
  
"You're certainly a force to be reckoned with."  
  
"Damn right."  
  
George stayed awake a little while longer to watch Alex sleep. Once more, she looked years younger like this, like she was still ignorant to the horrors of this world. Before he went to sleep, he kissed her cheek and whispered 'I love you, Alexandra.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if I like how this chapter turned out, but we're almost done! Another chapter or two and then we're done. Whaaaaat?


	21. The Soldier and Her General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys! The last chapter.  
> I'm sorry to end it, but I'm glad that I can start/finish other projects now. This thing has taken me nearly a year to finish.  
> Dobby is free.

George woke first out of habit and peered down in confusion at the fluffy lump he was cracking. Hair. That's hair. Dark and soft hair. Soft and small person. Oh. Alex. Once he woke enough to solve the mystery of the fuzzy lump in his arms, George watched on silently with a small smile. Even with bedhead, she was pretty.

He gently ran his hand through her hair and then down her back in a soothing motion. George thought to himself that he could curl up with Alex for the rest of his days, waking to see this beautiful sight every morning. Why did she pick him? What about him was so special to catch this genius of a woman's attention?

It was a while before Alex woke, and even then, she wasn't quite awake enough to figure out where she was and why she was here. George watched on with growing amusement at her confusion and his smile only widened when she finally turned her attention to him.

"Morning beautiful."

Alex groaned and hid her face in his shirt. "You're a morning person. Shoot me."

"Someone beat me to it." The look she gave him could scalp a man. "Too soon?"

"Try again after I've had breakfast," she mumbled, pressing closer to leech off any heat he had to offer and nuzzling him. "Maybe I'll laugh. Or John'll laugh for me." Or something like that. Her brain wasn't awake yet.  
  
George gave the rumpled woman tucked into his side a lopsided, fond grin. Heavens help him, he never wanted to get used to this; George wanted to wake up every morning to the sight of a spirited Alex with bedhead and a little grumpy. Even the glare she flashed him a moment ago was something he needed to see in his life, but hopefully not directed at him too often. He knew he'd screw up, and so would she, but damn if he cared about the hiccups in the future; George would fight an army by himself for her, mad at each other or not.  
  
He pressed a gentle kiss to her head, and when she popped her head up again to say something, George leaned in and kissed her. He tried not to laugh or smile too much at the startled noise she emitted. Alex was quick to recover and quickly pushed herself up a little to lean over him. Hands reached for her shaggy locks, fingers tucking the curtain of dark hair over them back behind her ears.  
  
"I'm not glass. I'm a soldier, don't you know?"  
  
George laughed at that and kissed her cheeks, "My lioness. Forgive me for forgetting, but you're priceless and deserve to be treated as such." He admired the blush that spread over her cheeks and up to her ears.  
  
"Keep talking like that and Adams may think you're trying to put me in power," she joked.  
  
"Mm, yes, but you'd be a great leader."  
  
"Then why did you never promote me any further than where I was?" Alex sat back on her feet, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.  
  
"Because I needed you here. Your mind was too important to waste anywhere else." George hesitated to continue. What if his next words pissed her off? She may not appreciate it. "And after I fell in love with you, I couldn't stand the thought of losing you out there on the battlefield."  
  
Alex hummed but didn't comment. He was right; the small frown told him everything he needed to know on her thoughts about that. "Alexandra, you would make for a great leader in battle, don't doubt that I don't believe that." They shouldn't have gone down this line of conversation yet; it'd ruined the moment, and George was unsure if they'd get it back before they left for the day. It couldn't be much worse.  
  
"What happened when you were with the king?" he asked quietly. "Did he hurt you in any way?"  
  
She shook her head quickly. "Minus rope burns from the inertial kidnapping, he left me unscathed. However, he did make me stay in his quarters with him. Sharing a bed with him was...unpleasant, but he didn't touch me. I was just supposed to look like I was a turncoat when the fight started to throw you off. That, or that I was a hostage to force you to surrender; I told him the last one wouldn't work because this is war and we're both of the mind that sacrifice one for the many. So, turncoat, it was."  
  
"I'll admit that I was furious when I believed that you were a spy for him."  
  
"Yeah, being held at gunpoint sort of gave it away." And hadn't that scared the shit out of her?  
  
"I'm sorry for that." Alex shook her head at him, but George continued, "The way you came running for us should have caused me to doubt my initial concerns. If it was to kill us, I doubt you'd rush us like that. You're sneakier than that."  
  
She offered a small shrug, "It's fine. It's done. I would have done the same."  
  
Alex flopped back down beside him with a small bounce and tugged the blankets back over them. "Now, back to sleep for a few minutes."  
  
"Alas, we can't, darling. A war calls, and you have to receive the praise of everyone in the camp for killing the king." He carefully sat up to not jostle her too much, stretching; George didn't miss the way that Alex stared at the patch of skin that showed when his rode up a little. Another time, maybe.  
  
She cringed at that. "I don't mind a little praise, but that much? I really don't want that much attention."  
  
"Think positively, Alexandra. Whoever doubted you when they found out you were a woman have little choice but to have respect for you. Think of it as petty revenge."  
  
Snorting, Alex reached out and playfully shoved him. "The general? Suggesting that sink low enough to dabble in petty revenge among my peers? I'll pretend that I didn't hear that." But it helped a little. Alex couldn't help but think that maybe it would feel kind of nice.  
  
Alex grabbed her uniform and slipped enough on to be presentable, and then they parted separate ways. Both needed to wash and change for the day.  
  
\--  
  
Alex and George accompanied Lafayette to the mess tents, and the man was excitedly going on and on about this or that concerning their victory the day before. When they got to the entrance, Alex hesitated to go in. She didn't want the attention. At all. She wanted to eat in peace and forget everything about the last few days.  
  
She had to go in eventually; her stomach was rumbling.  
  
After a deep breath and a squeeze of her hand from George, she pushed through the flap and stepped inside. People continued talking until she walked by, and then it would drop to whispers until it was nothing. The entire tent had fallen silent, with Alex in the middle of the stares. She bowed her head and her shoulders raised to her head as she tried to get to the food line as quickly as possible without running to it. Before she could get away, someone started clapping, then a few, and the noise built until everyone in the mess tent was on their feet and cheering.  
  
George gently tugged her back to stand in front of everyone who cheered at her killing the king. What a thing to celebrate, she thought mildly. Alex offered a weak smile and tried to back away, only for George to keep her where she was.  
  
"Enjoy it," he said through the noise. "You've earned praise."  
  
"Don't want it," she grumbled.  
  
It lasted way too long for her liking, and she finally managed to get away to get her breakfast. Alex nearly didn't get to eat it with everyone coming up to thank her or whatever they had to say. It bothered her, but she didn't complain out loud. If she let them get it out of her system, she could move on with her life.  
  
\--  
  
She couldn't, apparently.  
  
When the war ended, and everyone could go home, Alex was invited to the palace. She was thankful that most people didn't know what she looked like yet, but they knew her name; small mercies. They could chatter about it in the streets without realizing that their silly idea of a "hero" was walking by them and could hear the gossip.  
  
George needed to leave without her several days before to take care of his own business, so Alex was on her own until she got to the palace. John, Hercules, and Laf were waiting for her in the foyer, and all but tackled her in their enthusiastic attempts to hug her.  
  
Alex snorted and did her best to hug them all back. "You guys just saw me a few days ago."  
  
"Every moment we're not with you is too long." Lafayette was laying it on thick, in her opinion, but she didn't mind it. She loved each of them for their numerous quirks and horrible humor.  
  
"Anyway, why are you guys here?" Someone came and called for them to follow her, and Alex continued. "I had to stop by at my home to see my family. In a few words, they were pissed but happy to have me back."  
  
"I'd have grounded you for life over it," Hercules chimed in.  
  
"I'm not out of the woods yet. I could still be in trouble for a while...or they'll deny the general their blessing." She really hoped that they didn't do that; George planned to continue courting her for a few more months before any wedding plans would be official. They knew the soldier in their betrothed, not so much of the man and woman; that would be fixed soon enough.  
  
"Ooh! I forgot about that." Lafayette playfully elbowed her, "You aim high, don't you? And that height. Very lucky indeed."  
  
Everyone was thankful that no one else was around to see it, or that they were eating or drinking something. Alex was blushing, as was the staff if they could see her face.  
  
"Hush, Laf! We're in a castle," she scolded, trying to seem serious but failing miserably with the twitching grin. Alex sighed, "He is handsome though. And smart. And funny. And sweet. And--"  
  
"Ugh, we get it. You two are love sick for one another, and I may vomit." John faked a gag, but then patted her on the back. "Seriously though, we're happy for you, and we've already given him The Talk. We wish you two a life of happiness in one another."  
  
"Thank you, John."  
  
"In other news, seeing you in a dress is odd, but you're beautiful in it. That blue is a nice color on you." Hercules' appreciative smile fell though. "Where's your uniform."  
  
"Confiscated. I'll be presented to the king as a civilian, not as a soldier." And that pissed her off. Everyone here was able to stay within the safety of the city walls, while Alex went to war and risked her life. They weren't out there helping, so why couldn't she take their place as a soldier rather than a girl who went where she wasn't supposed to be.  
  
When they arrived at the throne room, Alex had to wait to be summoned by the king, but her friends could go in and take their places on the sides of the chamber with the other guests. Her family was in there somewhere, having left a day before her. Alex was exhausted and wanted another day to rest before she traveled again. Someone stepped out and motioned for her to come in, and the doors were pushed open.  
  
An aisle was made of guests who had come to witness whatever happened to Alex, to see what the king did. No pressure. Taking a deep breath, she started down the aisle towards where the king sat, waiting for her. He didn't look bored, or angry, or anything; Alex couldn't read his expression. In defiance of any claims that she was a citizen, she all but marched to the throne. Crisp steps, shoulders back, chin up, and dare people to say something.  
  
She didn't realize that George was off to the side, near the dais with the advisors, until she cleared the standing crowd on either side of her. Damn, she'd forgotten how handsome he was in his dress uniform. It almost caused her to hesitate in her steps, but she pressed on and held her head high, ignoring his presence for the moment. They could talk later.  
  
She stopped at the base of the dais and bowed out of habit--being around men for over a year created a new set of manners, so dress or not, she didn't curtsey. She caught George biting back a smile and laugh at how she was carrying herself, but she still couldn't read the king. If George didn't look worried, maybe she shouldn't either. Things were fine. They'd be fine.  
  
When Alex straightened, she met the king's eyes and smiled faintly. After a moment of tense silence, Adams gave her a small nod and a smile. Kings could smile? That was a sight to see. She had to force herself to not stare at him for smiling. Focus. She's a soldier, dammit.  
  
"I have been informed that you broke the law. Is this true?"  
  
"Yes, your majesty."  
  
Adams hummed, "For how long did you commit this crime?"  
  
"A little over a year, sir." Chin up. Confidence. Breathe.  
  
"State your duties."  
  
"I assisted General Washington with documentation, translating for the Baron and the Marquis, and occasionally went on scouting missions and a little espionage. I was unable to leave as frequently as I would have liked. I felt somewhat useless behind a desk. When there were battles and skirmishes, I fought with everyone else."  
  
"And what punishments came with the judgment?"  
  
She hated to even think about it. "I lost my rank, sir. And I was meant to be collected by a chaperone of your choosing, however, the first carriage to arrive kidnapped me. I was given the uniforms of the women's division."  
  
"I can tell by your expression that you are less than pleased." His smile was wry, a hint of laughter in his eyes.  
  
Alex wrinkled her nose and took a calming breath so she wouldn't rant about how it was unfair. "I was as far from pleased as one can be, sir. I worked hard for that rank and—" She caught herself. "And I hate wearing dresses and skirts."  
  
"Says the woman currently in a gown."  
  
"Who said I don't have a pair of breeches under the skirts? I'd have worn my uniform, but it was taken, and was displeased enough with the demotion and the new uniform that I refused to wear it."  
  
There was a beat of silence, a brief second where Adams considered...something. Alex didn't know what he was thinking, or what he saw in her. "On the day you returned after your capture, you murdered a man."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"A king."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"I hope that's the last one you ever off." That, coupled with Adams' tiny smile, had George stifling a laugh off to the side. "I'd hate for that to become a trend for you."  
  
"I want that to be my last, sir."  
  
"You have killed a conquerer and stopped a years long war between nations with his death. For that reason, I will dismiss all charges against you."  
  
"Thank you, sir, I—" It was a slap on the wrist.  
  
"Patience, I'm not finished." He held up his finger to make her stop talking and wait. "With that, your rank and all accounts of your accomplishments will be given back to you and put in the records."  
  
Was she getting it back? Everything? Alex tried to stop the happy grin spreading across her face, but failed miserably, especially when she glanced at George and saw his expression. She was a soldier! Legally! The only woman in this position and— "Thank you, your majesty. I don't think you realize how much this means to me."  
  
Adams gave a singular nod and then continued. "Now, as for the future. It will not be mandatory for women to serve in battle, but I will allow them to choose to do so. I would like you to lead those changes." What.  
  
"Lastly, I heard that you're engaged?" Alex blushed but nodded. "Funny, I believe General Washington is as well. I hope this won't be a distraction in the future if there is conflict again."  
  
"There won't be, sir."  
  
"Good. General?" Adams motioned for George to stand in front of Alex. George was smiling warmly as he pulled out a small pack, the size of one a soldier may carry, and presented it to her.  
  
"Inside, you will find your uniform, badges, and other things that were confiscated inside." Alex beamed at him and saluted, which George returned.  
  
"Ugh, general, please, for everyone's sake, just kiss her so we can move on. Everyone can see you two are disgustingly smitten with one another."  
  
"Well, we are closely associated." George winked at Alex before leaning in and kissing her. Hey, king's orders and all. Who was he to say no to this?  
  
When the parted a moment later, Adams had George step away again and stood. Someone moved to his side, holding a small pillow with a medal on it. He moved towards Alex and carefully pinned it to her dress. "This is the highest honor that can be given to a serviceman or woman. You've made everyone in this nation proud. Thank you."  
  
Alex grinned and waited until he'd finished speaking before hugging him tightly. "Thank you, sir," she whispered. They pulled away, and Adams' smile was a little wider this time.  
  
"You're welcome. Now, there's to be a ball tonight to celebrate the end of this wretched war. I expect to see our two guests of honor." Both Alex and George murmured their agreements.  
  
And that was that.  
  
\--  
  
Because she was in the military, she should be in her uniform, and bickered with her family over whether or not she should wear it or her dress. 'But think about how surprised the general would be! He'd love to see you in a ball gown.' Okay, but, she wasn't dressing for him tonight; she was dressing for herself. If this ball was to be for her and George, then she was dressing how she wanted, and how she would be required to as a man.  
  
She went in her uniform.  
  
George cracked up when he saw her. He was waiting for her at the door to the ballroom, wanting to walk hand-in-hand with her. "Do you ever stop working?" But, the looks he was giving her told Alex that he liked seeing her in her dress uniform, and he was glad that she did it. The whole thing seemed more like her than a dress.  
  
"Of course not." Alex grinned and offered her hand, "Ready?"  
  
"With you? Always." He took her hand and stepped to the door, waiting to be announced before the doors parted to let them in. After tonight, they had the rest of their lives to enjoy the other's company without the eyes of the court on them, judging their every move. They looked at one another as if they'd hung the moon, and that look never faded through the years.


	22. Writing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few questions

Hey guys!

 

I'm doing a Q&A project for class and need questions about my writing process or the stories themselves. Can y'all comment with a question or two for me please?


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